Steele on the Nile
by nefret24
Summary: ~**CHAPTER 9 POSTED**~ Not yet over!! Based on Jewel of the Nile, Laura and Steele find themselves in the middle of nowhere with a tribe that may wish them harm... Please R/R!
1. Red is the Color of...

Steele of the Nile

Steele of the Nile

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Remington Steele, nor do I own any of the characters from Jewel of the Nile/ Romancing the Stone. I am merely borrowing them (and some of their dialogue and a whole lot of their plot) for a little fun and games, and I'll put them back where I found them. Promise.

Author's Note: I've heard a number of people refer to the evil 5th Season as a wannabe "Romancing the Stone." Quite frankly, I think there's more Laura present in the Joan of the sequel "Jewel of the Nile." Joan's simply too hopelessly cowardly and prim in RTS to be compared with Laura. Joan and Jack's relationship exploration in the sequel kinda led me to some ideas for our favorite PI and con man, so I hope you enjoy. 

Feedback: Greatly appreciated! I'm new at this, so please, be nice. 

Archiving: Really?? I'm flattered- but ask first. 

Laura Holt came into the office with no spring in her step. Generally, PI work stimulated her to the utmost, made her feel alive, let her live on the edge. She always loved excitement yet lately, all the cases seemed to be incredibly dull and trite. Find my cheating spouse, find my long lost daughter, find the company leak. All dreadfully banal cases that had been wrapped up in less than two days. Laura had considered that maybe the name of Remington Steele had ceased to amaze, that somehow the agency had lost the limelight. Or maybe it was just a slow month. Whatever the cause, Laura was increasingly frustrated with work and with Mr. Steele, who had taken advantage of the light workload to increase his persistent attempts to woo her with dinners, dancing, and promises of weekend getaways. Now, there was no doubt in her mind that she loved spending time with Mr. Steele and enjoyed his company. He was a handsome man- no a gorgeous godlike hunk of a man- who respected her as an equal. He was her best friend. She knew that with all her heart, and she didn't want to ruin that or the agency's reputation by taking it any further. An evil voice at the back of her mind said that she didn't trust him, that there was still the chance that he'd abandon her and slink back into the international underworld. So, with her personal life at an impasse and her usual solace, work, temporarily unavailable, a morose Laura requested the mail from Mildred and retired to her office, to clear up some long overdue paperwork. 

Mildred, noting Miss Holt's mood, grimaced at her computer. Something was not right. And when her "kids" were unhappy, her motherly mode kicked into overdrive. Something had to be done. She was considering making Laura some coffee and then interrogating her once she locked her victim into conversation, but just then Mr. Steele strolled in, whistling and obviously in a good mood. Maybe he could clear the air with her, Mildred mused.

"Morning, chief," said Mildred, giving him the coffee cup meant for Miss Holt.

"Ah, and what a beautiful morning it is, Mildred! Is Miss Holt in?" he asked cheerily.

"Yes, but boss..."

"Is she with a client?"

"No, no one's come in yet today but..."

"Splendid! It's perfect, Mildred absolutely perfect. If anyone does come- warn them that Mr. Steele will be out of the country for the next week- okay?" he said as he made his way to Laura's office, Mildred still expostulating with no avail.

Laura looked up as she saw Remington appear in her office, a large grin on his face. *God, he has the greatest smile* thought Laura, though his cheery disposition did not agree well with her today. 

"Ah, good morning Laura. Laura, Laura, Laura. Hard at work as usual. One of the many things I love about you- your diligence, utter devotion to the job. Which is why I think that it would only be judicious of me to send my most valued associate on an exotic cruise among the islands of Greece."

"Were you planning on coming along, or do I get the whole boat to myself?" Laura said.

"Well, naturally, I would have to see that each and every need of my associate be met! Think of it, Laura, Crete, Lesbos, the Mediterranean..."

"What about the agency?" Laura asked curtly. 

"Mildred will be hear to oversee things, " he said, coming closer and leaning over her desk to look soulfully into her eyes. "Besides, we have no clients booked. We're not inconveniencing anyone. Think of it, Laura. What possibilities!" he added seductively.

That did it. Laura stood up and pushed her chair back. "You and your possibilities! Don't you even care that we haven't had a decent case in ages? I've invested my heart and soul into this place- and it seems lately to be running into the ground! And you think that this is the perfect time to gallivant off to Greece?" she yelled.

"Why the bloody hell not?" he yelled back. And then added in a more muted voice, "Does it matter really all that much anyway? Wherever we go, whatever we do, we always run into a case- or you do your damnedest to make one. Never have we spent a stretch of two days completely crime free- until this week. Why not enjoy it while it lasts?"

"But what if it lasts indefinitely? Then what will we do then, *Mister* Steele? What will you do if you have no apartment to return to after sailing around for a week?" Laura said with a frustrated tone, gesturing wildly. It didn't help that she thought the last few days had been wonderful- all play, all Steele, and no work. But that wasn't how Laura Holt acted- she was responsible and diligent and....

"A stubborn workhorse!" Steele exclaimed in disgust. Laura glared at him, unable to fight back with a stinging retort because she hadn't been paying attention to his impassioned plea for Greece. 

Remington watched intently as Laura began to put on her coat and fedora. Grabbing her purse she said sharply, "Maybe one day you'll see how important this is, but if you want to run amok all across the continent, indulging in fond memories, don't let the little things like me and the agency stop you."

And with that, Laura stormed out of the office past a bewildered Mildred.

"Boss..." she began.

"Not now, Mildred. Not now," he sighed and waved her off. He walked into his empty office and sat down at his desk, tapping his fingertips together and sticking out his lower lip, as he often did when in deep thought or while brooding. Now he was brooding. Never was their a more stubborn woman than Laura. He couldn't hate her for that- it was too much like his own bullheadedness. But he could fume over the rented boat that would have taken them to Greece that now had no other purpose than to sit at the pier. he had had a spectacular week planned for them once they got there: he'd show Laura all the customary tourist sites and then all of his old haunts from his days as a smuggler with Marcos. He had saved up for it for a long time. He could have bought several tailored suits over the last year but had declined in favor of building up enough of a nest egg in order to somehow repay Laura for all that she had done for him since he began the whole masquerade. 

He pulled out a deck of cards from his desk drawer and began playing solitaire. Then he began to cheat. As Daniel would say, not a good sign. True, he missed his old life a bit- thinking about Greece had reminded him of Marcos and all the wonderful times he had had; but he wouldn't give up a minute, a second, of his time with Laura, not for anything in the world. He had changed. He knew that. *She* had changed him. Yet every time he tried to repay her, every time he got too close to their true feelings for one another, every time he tried to show her how he felt, something got in the way, from telephone calls to dead bodies. Mildred buzzed the intercom, interrupting his thoughts and his game. "Steele here," he answered.

"There's a Mr. Trikopolis on the phone for you, boss. Line 1," she said.

"Thank you, Mildred. Er- did Miss Holt perhaps say where she was going before she violently slammed the door?"

"No, chief, but I'm sure she'll turn up. She always does after your little spats. "

Remington smiled weakly, then said, "Well, let me know when she comes in, will you?"

"Aye aye, sir."

Clearing his throat, he picked up the phone and proceeded to politely explain to the owner of the boat why he would no longer be needing it or his services.

Around lunchtime, after several games of solitaire, he emerged from his office. Mildred had gone to lunch already, and Laura was still out. Flipping through some of the files on Mildred's desk, he glanced up to see a delivery boy struggling to open the agency's glass doors while his arms held a precariously teetering bouquet of red roses. Remington opened the door for him. Setting the vase on Mildred's desk and taking an invoice slip from his jacket pocket, he asked for Laura. Someone's sending Laura roses and it's not me? thought Remington. Have I forgotten something? More than a little bit jealous, he signed for them and curtly dismissed the delivery boy. Scowling, he stared at the bouquet, wondering who could have sent such a thing. He saw a small envelope attached to the porcelain vase. It was not sealed. No, no, it would be morally wrong to open that card, he thought. I'd be violating Laura's trust. Yet.... who the bloody hell had the right to send her roses, *red* roses other than me? 

After double-checking that the office was completely empty, he carefully removed the card from the envelope. Written in a fluid masculine hand was "Awaiting this afternoon with delight. Hope to discuss matters of great importance. Love, a friend." 

Dumbfounded, he returned the card to its envelope and retreated to his office where he began to pace furiously. What the hell did that mean? What was this afternoon? Who was this friend? What kind of matters did he have to discuss with Laura? In a flash of jealousy, Remington speculated madly. Red roses- in the language of flowers, connotative of passionate, romantic love. A friend- definitely masculine through the handwriting and a woman most definitely would have signed her name. This afternoon. Matters of great importance. Surely she wasn't involved with, with whoever this was, and meeting them now? He glanced at his watch- it was quarter to 1. About to be engaged? He began to pace faster, shaking his head. No, no, no, that is not right. Laura would have said something before this if she was involved with someone that seriously, wouldn't she have? Stop this, you've got to stop this. It's probably a business meeting, he said to himself. *Yeah, and you're the Queen of England, mate.* 

He moved to Laura's office and found her desk calendar. For that day, at 2:00 there was a note written in pencil: "VR Shareholders, Regency." Remington allowed himself to breathe once more. One of the cases they had just closed was a leak in a large banking firm, Vittrion and Ritter. VR. And that afternoon, the head of the company was planning on honoring Remington Steele for his hard work in preserving the company's integrity at a small party for its shareholders, being held at the Regency Hotel. Remington took a deep breath and slowly let it out. See, he told himself, a perfectly simple explanation. Someone is planning on seeing Laura at the party this afternoon. Probably they're just from Vittrion Junior, who had taken a liking to Laura during the case. She had been either entirely oblivious to his advances or she had ignored them completely- both scenarios which Remington would gladly accept. Recognizing the time, he quickly hurried over to his apartment to change before two.

Laura, after driving around LA fuming and changing to suitable attire for the party at her loft, returned to the agency to collect Mr. Steele. But to her surprise, he wasn't there. She asked Mildred, who also seemed to be at a loss to where he had gone. 

"He was here all morning. He was still here when I left for lunch with the girls too.... But just look at these flowers!" she said excitedly, gesturing to the vase on her desk. "he probably left them for you."

Laura smiled and read the card. Odd. Why didn't he sign his name? Or had they childishly returned to the anonymous admirer game? She had no doubt that the "matters of great importance" included a boat, Greece, and playing hooky from work for a week. Still, she was touched and a smile remained on her face as she retired to her office. He's probably at home changing, she thought as she dialed his number. Sure enough, he answered on the second ring. 

"Steele here."

"Hello, Mr. Steele. Are you almost ready to go to the Shareholder's meeting?"

"Ah, Laura, you know me, always willing to drink champagne and take bows for the agency's sake," he said flippantly while inserting his cufflinks.

"Come on, you hate it, I know. Though I'm surprised you remembered this time."

"I'll always keep you guessing. I was just about to send Fred to pick you up. At home, are you?"

"No, at the office." Glancing at her watch and cursing herself for fuming so long she added quickly, "I might as well meet you there. We wouldn't want Remington Steele to be late for his own party, now, would we?"

"One of the many things I love about you, Laura- your adherence to punctuality. See you there then?" he inquired hopefully.

"Yes. Oh and by the way, " she said, a grin spreading on her face. "I loved the roses."

Remington hung up the phone considerably confused. Did she think that *he* had sent her those flowers? Extremely perplexing. However, he was more than willing to take the credit for them, seeing as Laura sounded much more like her cheerful self. Perhaps I might be able to take her to Greece after all, he thought, checking his bow tie in the mirror. After making sure that his hair was in place, he grabbed his coat and left for the hotel.

Remington arrived at the Regency right on time and after receiving a drink from the bar and several business cards from individuals desperate for a new wealthy investor, Vittrion Junior had proceeded to make his introduction. During this longwinded speech, Laura had slipped in and was making her way to Remington's table. He watched her as she crossed the room, looking positively gorgeous in a long red dress reminiscent of the one she wore at the first award ceremony he had attended as Benjamin Pearson/ Remington Steele. He would never forget that night- how beautiful she looked hurling insults at him, how wonderful she felt in his arms when they danced, how despite all of Murphy's urging, she didn't turn him in to the police. His reverie was interrupted by much applause, which he belatedly realized was for him. He rose and went to the podium as Laura took the empty seat beside his at the table. She flashed him a smile and a surreptitious thumbs up. After a short acceptance speech, acknowledging his "dedicated and brilliant associate," he returned to the table. 

"Well done, Mr. Steele," remarked Laura.

"Thank you, Miss Holt. May I say that you look lovely this afternoon?"

"Thank you- for the compliment and the flowers. It really was sweet of you," she said, smiling, deviously scheming how to make him fess up about those "matters of great importance."

"Er- yes," he fumbled, running a finger inside his crisp, white collar and giving it a tug. "Quite." Seeing that music had been provided, he quickly asked Laura to dance. 

Remington led Laura to the floor and pulled her close, beginning to sway with the music, hoping to distract her. Unfortunately, he ended up distracting himself, as often occurred when he found himself in close proximity to her. 

He looked in her eyes, with that countenance that had won women's hearts all over the Continent: Laura's stomach always flipped inside out when he did that. It was a look of complete attention- as if nothing else in the world existed at that moment except her. Attentiveness was incredibly sexy, Laura mused, and he seemed to simply exude it from every pore. It's a wonder I don't explode with lust! How does he do this to me? her head screamed. Then, she whispered it aloud, "How do you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"One minute you infuriate me into rages beyond which even my *mother* is capable, and the next you melt my knees with flowers and fond looks!"

Damn. Still on the flowers. Time to come clean at last, mate. She wouldn't want the man who melts her knees to be a liar. "Hem. Er... Laura, about the flowers..." he began.

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you about that. What is this matter of great importance you'd like to discuss? Couldn't have anything to do with Greece, could it?" she said, clipping her consonants sharply.

Gulp. Moment of truth. Literally. "Laura. I didn't send you the flowers. Believe me, I wish I did. I merely signed for them while you were out...."

"No. No. Not again. I will *not* fall for this stupid ruse a third time!"

"Laura, I swear to you, with utmost sincerity not to mention regret, that I did not send those roses."

"Well, if you didn't, who did?" she said puzzled. 

"I honestly don't know. Don't you?" Her only response was a glare. So maybe she had never made an appointment with anybody. "Perhaps Vittrion Junior? Isn't he your... friend?" he guessed.

Laura began to simmer with rage. He could have never known how the card was signed unless he looked. It had been opened but she had just assumed Mildred was being, well, Mildred. She bared her teeth in a gritted smile and replied, "Perhaps. How long were you going to wait before you told me the truth? How much longer would you have let me believe you had nicely apologized for this morning?"

"Apologized? Who said anything about an apology? If anybody should be apologizing it's you! I had to deal with a very upset Greek boat captain this morning who was quite the emotional basket case since I had to cancel our trip- something I thought you'd enjoy...."

"Like hell I would! With a psychotic captain and you probably eyeing every damn antiquity on every damn island...." she broke off as she realized that several of the other dancers were now fixing curious stares on them. They had both crossed the line and they knew it. She stopped dancing and muttered to herself, "Haven't these people ever seen an argument before?"

"But not of your caliber, Miss Holt. How about I get us some drinks and we can continue verbally abusing ourselves in a dark corner somewhere?" Remington said through clenched teeth. 

"Make mine a double," she said, heading back to the table.

Laura could not believe the extent of Remington's deception. First, he takes credit for a thoughtful gift none of his giving and then he violates her privacy by reading the card! What was up with this alpha male attitude he kept displaying around her? Sure, Vittrion Junior had made some passes at her- she wasn't in the least bit interested and it was clear she could handle him- but Remington, it seemed, was always on the defensive. Often during their meetings with Vittrion, he would encircle Laura's shoulders with his arm. Why the hell doesn't he make me a sign, "Property of Remington Steele" ? thought Laura angrily. She hated to think that his recent attentions to her were not a sign of genuine affection but rather a jealous claim on her. She caught a glimpse of him across the room, ordering their drinks at the bar. She softened. He could do that to her- weaken her defenses, damn him. Sighing, she had to admit she was kind of flattered that such a man, so coveted by warm-blooded women everywhere, would go to such lengths for her, Laura Holt, homely P.I. 

A single red rose materialized in front of her face. Curious, she took it from the well manicured brown hand that grasped its stem and craned her neck upwards. Standing before her was a man who rivaled Remington in shocking good looks and manly poise. He looked like he had just walked out of a Valentino movie, with flowing robes and an Eastern appearance. 

He smiled at her, his teeth as white as his robes.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"A friend."


	2. The Set-Up

Remington was waiting for the bartender to make Laura's double scotch when he noticed that Laura was no longer at their table. He had seen her there only a second ago. He began to scan the room for a brunette in a red dress. She wasn't hard to spot. Off in a corner, surrounded by what appeared to be four bodyguards (he could tell because they were large men, wearing all black and sunglasses indoors) was Laura. Laughing. Talking. With a stranger. A stranger who it seems was of some importance. Either that or he was so evil, so vile that several people and/or governments had contracts out on him. Remington liked the latter scenario. The man was laughing too. His hand was on Laura's. He was flirting with her. And she knew it- there was no way she could be oblivious to **this** guy's advances, he grimaced, as the man lent in to talk to her, as if he were stating something in a more serious and confidential tone. 

Bloody hell, he thought. Forget the drinks. I'd better find out what the devil is going on before I lose her. He began to make his way to their table. With an "at ease, chaps" to the stoic bodyguards, he approached their table, to hear Laura's tinkling laugh and observe the stranger's wide, white-toothed grin and the red rose beside his hand.

"Ah, Miss Holt, there you are," he said in a brave attempt to be casual. Somehow, he didn't think he was succeeding with his usual grace, since the aforementioned bodyguards were gripping their ears and muttering to themselves, moving toward the table. The man waved at them, and they slowly retreated, leaving the three of them to themselves. A slight tug on his collar, Remington flashed the man a big smile, and addressed Laura, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Laura glared at his word choice but recovered quickly, smiling over-brightly. "Omar Khalifa, Remington Steele," she stated, with a wave of her hand. 

"It is an honor, Mister Steele. It is quite the man indeed who can groom such a lovely and intelligent associate," he said, kissing Laura's hand.

Laura blushed, as Remington stifled his rage into a curt, "Yes. Quite." 

Laura, sensing the mounting tension, began to babble, desperate to avoid a scene. "Mr. Khalifa-"

"Omar," he interrupted with a smile.

"_Omar_ has decided to enlist the agency's help in recovering what is known as the Jewel of the Nile, one of his country's most precious possessions."

"My people are very devout, Mr. Steele. To have lost such a symbol of my nation's religion is catastrophic."

"Omar is willing to considerably invest in the agency if the Jewel can be found," Laura added triumphantly. 

"And what are the conditions of the agreement?" Remington asked warily, sitting down at the table and tapping his fingers together, creating his business veneer.

"We're still in discussion" began Laura but Omar interrupted her.

"I would like Laura Holt to head the investigation."

Remington raised an eyebrow. What is this man up to? he thought. Instead of voicing his jealousy and concern for his associate, getting an altogether greasy feel of this _Omar_, he responded as was expected of his character. Conceited and chauvinistically. "Why?" 

"Is she not competent? One of your best operatives?" Omar asked knowingly, referring to Remington's recent words of praise in his speech.

"Yes, er, very. But why a woman? Are there not restrictions in your country for those of the, er, fairer sex?" 

"Ah!" Omar said happily. This guy is really laying it on thick, Remington thought. I've known better con men when I was eight. "Because she is a woman, that is what makes her more valuable! No one in my country expects a woman to be anything other than a mother and housewife. This way, the utmost secrecy can be maintained. That is why I come to your agency- discretion is your trademark."

"And Remington Steele's word is his bond," Remington said quietly. "Well, Miss Holt, it's up to you," he said with a sigh, shooting Laura an intense look. 

When she responded by averting her eyes to her intertwined fingers, Remington knew he had lost. No Greece. She was going to go after the Jewel. And there was nothing he could do to stop her. Sighing again, he rose from the table, making polite excuses and left the banquet room. He needed air. Lots and lots of air.

Laura watched his retreating form with regret. It wasn't fair to him to leave it at that. 

"See, I told you that he would approve," said Omar with a grin. 

Only half-listening to him, she rose as if to follow Remington. "Excuse me, please."

"But, Laura Holt, will you take the case?"

Annoyed at the delay, she said quickly, "I'm taking it under consideration." Laura searched for Remington. He wasn't at the bar or at their table. She didn't know what to do. On the one hand, she really wanted to take this case and it was an extra bonus that a woman, not a man, was being chosen for such a massive undertaking. She would have thought that he would have only deigned to talk to Mr. Steele alone but he seemed completely disinterested in the man with the million dollar smile and namesake. All he did was compliment me, thought Laura. It was cheesy, really. Not nearly as good as Remington's but not quite so bad as Vittrion Junior's come-ons. 

On the other hand, what was she to do about Mr. Steele? Leave him to run the agency for weeks straight? Handling clients? All by himself? Or god forbid, with Mildred's assistance? It would be a marvel if the office remained standing. 

If Khalifa invested in the agency, they could buy the whole damn building.

Where the hell was he? Laura scanned the dance floor in vain. She decided that she needed some fresh air before she faced Omar again. The man might be handsome but good heavens, how he smelled! As if he had dumped truckloads of cheap cologne onto each and every cotton fold. Ick. Not nearly as intoxicating as some people's aftershave

Then, as if on cue, he materialized from behind a potted plant on the hotel's open air porch. 

"There you are," Laura said playfully.

"Am I to assume that the Great Detective has found something she's been looking for?" he drawled.

Taking offense, she quickly leapt to the defense of their new client. " This could mean a great deal to the agency. Think of the publicity! It's a golden opportunity!"

"You're going then?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice. 

Laura didn't know what to make of that voice- and that tone, so filled with weary bitterness that it nearly tore her heart in two. In kind, she replied, "Yes. It's for the best. Really." 

"Whose best?" 

"The agency'sand ours. All of this togetherness it has been wonderful but maybe we just need some time, some spaceto think it through."

"It's always the same old song with you, isn't Laura? Anything for the agency, anything to keep everyone and everything at a distance!" he exploded.

"I do not!"

"YES, you DO. Every time I get close, you push me away. Every time we make headway in this crazy relationship of ours, you get scared and you throw yourself into any work you can find. And that's exactly what you're doing now! Without any consideration as to how it's going to effect anyone else!"

Horrified at how accurate his analysis of her was and incredibly pissed off that he had the nerve to say it, Laura countered, " And all you want to do is go to Greece!"

"Lauraaaa"

Rubbing her forehead in frustration, she held up her hand. "I'm taking the case. I should think that you would be happy for me and would be flattered that I would leave the agency in your hands during my absence." 

Remington could think of nothing to say. That she would trust him with her life's work left him mildly stunned and filled with regret over his angry words. Still, jealousy nagged at his heart and pride reigned.

"So that's that, then," he said simply.

"That's that."

"When do you leave?"

"Tonight. Omar has a private jet" she trailed off, making motions towards the banquet room.

"Omar has a private jet," he softly repeated. "And I only pretend to have one." After an awkward pause, he continued, " I'll call you?"

"Where? It's not like there's a telephone at every watering hole."

"So I guess this is goodbye."

"Guess so."

Just then, one of Khalifa's bodyguards approached them and with a click of his heels, addressed Laura: "Sheik Omar will have you get your personals now Laura Holt."

"Oh. Yes. Tell him I'll be there in a minute," she said with a sigh. Facing Remington once more, she was dying to make this easier, to somehow make the pain in his face go away. "I, um, have to go."

"I guess the problems of two little people don't amount to a hill of beans either," he said jokingly, but there was no joviality in his voice. "I'll miss you, Laura Holt." Giving her a quick peck on the lips, he turned and walked away towards the parking lot. 

Faintly, as she watched him walk away, she replied, "I'll miss you, too."

With a sigh, she returned to the banquet room with the bodyguard. Omar kept insisting that she ride with him in the limo instead of driving her Rabbit back to the loft. After a half-hearted argument, she capitulated. She seemed as if in a haze, still a bit shell-shocked from her conversation with Remington. It really seemed like goodbye. Their _last_ goodbye. 

As she morosely walked with Omar and his bodyguards to the awaiting limo outside, there was a commotion from the bushes. A man, his arm raised with a large knife, rushed at them, screaming "El d'Jahra!" He thrust the knife into Omar's chest, causing him to fall backwards into the outstretched arms of one of his bodyguards, as the others attempted to restrain the man. Laura, supporting Omar with one arm, guided him into the limo as she watched the assailant run off, several bodyguards in pursuit.

In the limo, Laura proceeded to assess Omar's injuries. He merely responded by restraining her shaking hands by clasping them in his and grinning. "Ah! It's alright. It's alright!"

"You're not hurt?" she asked, confused.

"No, no, no. Do not worry, Laura Holt. I am a man of vision," he said, bearing his chest to reveal chain mail underneath. "Not everyone appreciates that," he added darkly. 

"Have there been any other attempts on your life?" she inquired.

"Some. It is foolish really. When I am announced as the rightful leader of the people, they will mend their ways. I cannot have my nation terrorized by radicals, Laura Holt. That is why you must find the Jewel. It is the only way to subdue most of their superstitious followers."

"I see," she murmured, looking out the window. Admittedly, her thoughts were not on the case and she was surprisingly calm about the attack. She instead was consumed with thoughts of Mr. Steele. Was she doing the right thing? She could only hope so. As she was trusting in him to make sure the business ran smoothly in her absence, as she was trusting him to stay while she was leaving, she hoped against hope that he would trust her to return and to not disregard their feelings for one another. She hated being the cold fish all the time. Practical Laura. Scared Laura. The one who always kept him at a distance because it was safer that way. Easier. The problem was nothing in their relationship had been easy. Between his mysterious past and her own dizzying array of feelings for him that ran the gamut from utter disgust to the most passionate of love, it had always been a muddle. A mystery. One that she could never, ever solve. Some great detective. She sighed. Omar didn't seem to notice- he was still smiling at his narrow escape and continued to grin all the way to the loft. 

Remington never noticed his ears burning. He was too drunk. He had ordered Fred back to his apartment and had opened up a bottle of Glen Livet that he had been saving for their bon voyage to Greece. Half of it was gone. It was a sad state of things, he thought. Reduced to this. Alone, drunk, and watching Casablanca for the 206th time. Like a depressed schoolgirl who's not been asked to the prom. How could a woman do this to him? He was always a ladies man, had them in and out of his bed before they could say "Jack Robinson." But Laura was his pitfall. Four years and an infinite amount of charm and winning smiles had refused to move her any further than their first memorable meeting in the restaurant, swapping innuendoes and undressing one another with their eyes only. And now she was leaving. It seemed like it was for good. That she would never come back. Sure, he knew that if Laura made a promise, she would keep it but something in that farewell had been so final, so absolute. The masquerade was over and now the previously inseparable team of Steele and Holt would be no more. Remington got more and more despondent by the minute. 

"What have you made me fit for?" He echoed Audrey Hepburn's lines to the silent apartment. Then dictated: "My Fair Lady. Rex Harrison, Audrey Hepburn. 20th Century Fox, 1964." 

"Where shall I go? What shall I do?" he cried out to the images of Bogart and Bergman. "Gone With the Wind. Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh. MGM, 1939. Laura's favorite." The last words slurred together as emotion overtook him. 

I am nothing without Laura. She has made me who I am. Who I have always wanted to be. I can't let this go. Not without a fight, he silently determined. Awkwardly grabbing his coat, he dialed Fred and asked him to meet him out front ASAP.

Laura finished packing up her suitcases and was descending the stair from her bedroom. She stopped by the end table at the stair's base and picked up the picture frame resting on it. It was a picture of her and Mr. Steele, their arms intertwined, each about to sip from a bubbling champagne flute. She felt her cheeks get warm and felt a stinging sensation in her eyes. Placing the photo down, she told Omar that she was ready to leave. 

Traffic was unusually heavy that night. About three blocks from her loft, Remington told Fred to stop and got out of the limo and ran, filled with a sense of immediacy. He needed to stop Laura from going. He needed her to stay. He needed her, period. Goddamn the case, but he would not lose her! And certainly not to that charlatan Omar! Breathless, he finally reached her building only to see a limo in front, slowly beginning to merge with the oncoming traffic. Laura gazed out of the back window and raised a hand to the glass. They held each other's gaze for as long as they could, staring intensely at one another, each mirroring the other's soulful and sad look. The limo pulled away and Remington was left panting by the curb. 

When Remington returned to the limo, Fred informed him that he had an urgent phone call. It was Mildred, and she sounded very upset. 

"Oh, Boss! I'm so glad I caught you! Just as I was leaving, we got an urgent phone call from a client who needs to meet with you tonight! He said it was a matter of life and death! I couldn't turn him down, chief. With a plea like that, who could?"

"Mildred, calm down. What is the client's name?"

"Joe Smith."

"Joe Smith?" he repeated skeptically.

"I know it sounds phony, boss, but the guy sounded desperate. I think he was using an alias- he doesn't trust the phones, I mean who can blame him?- that's why he wants this meeting."

Remembering his promise to Laura, Remington asked, "When's the meeting?"

"In an hour."

"Can you be there, Mildred? I may need some.backup."

"O bossI'm so flattered. I don't know what to say!" she said happily.

"I'll see you in an hour, then."

"You can count on me, sir." 

Remington met Mildred in the lobby of the building. They took the elevator up together. The eerie quiet of the building late at night was completely lost on her- babbling like a giddy schoolgirl at her first chance to exclusively assist the boss with a case. 

As she expressed her gratitude, Remington placated her with a weak smile. "Yes, well, for the next few weeks you'll be doing lots of assisting. Maybe even get your own case."

"Really? Oh do you really think so? This is so sudden! So wonderful! You and Miss Holt are the greatest you know that?" Suddenly aware that Laura was no where to be seen, she inquired after her. 

"Big case, Mildred. Very hush-hush," he said wearily, as the elevator doors opened and they proceeded down the hallway to their offices. 

Distrusting Steele's lame explanation and seeing his disheveled and tired appearance, she knew something was wrong. Whatever happened between her kids this morning was still not resolved. And now they weren't even working on the same cases together. This was definitely not good. And that was the Understatement of the Year. 

As they were about to approach the agency's doors, a man came rushing at them down the hallway. He looked foreign, had wild, long black hair streaming in every direction and wore clothes that bore the mark of a man on the run. It was the would-be assassin of Omar. He stopped the pair in front of the doors. 

"Steele! Steele! You must come with me! You must come with me now!" he shrieked, grabbing Remington's sleeve and tugging at it. 

"Excuse me, sir, but are you Joe Smith?" he said, plucking the man's fingers from his jacket.

"If he is, I'm a monkey's uncle," muttered Mildred, eyeing the man with disgust. "Beat it, bozo, we have some real detective work to do here." She went to the door to unlock it. Pulling, the doors refused to open. Turning the key the other way and giving a shove, the door swung into the office. "I could of sworn I'd locked this when I left." Glaring at the wild man, she said, "Who the hell do you think you are, buster? Oh, you're gonna get it. You're gonna get it but good. They're gonna lock you up and throw away the key!"

She was about to dial the police when the man stopped her. "Infernal woman! Stop! I need Steele to come with me. We must stop Omar!"

Hearing the name and reevaluating the man's swarthy appearance, Remington realized he was telling the truth. 

"Stop Omar? Stop Omar from doing what?"

Mildred watched the exchange with wide eyes, still not taking her hand from the receiver. As long as the boss knew what was going on.

"The Jewel. The Jewel of the Nile. He has stolen it from our people and now he plans to rule as a tyrant."

Raising his eyebrow at the man, Remington informed him that he had specifically hired the agency to find it. "Now why would he do that if he already had the Jewel in his possession? Hmmmm?"

"It is a lie. You were set up to fail. Omar is evil man, Steele. You must come."

"Sorry, mate, but I have a number of obligations here," he said remembering his promise to Laura. Yet something in the back of his mind knew this man was telling the truth. Remington himself knew that Omar wasn't trustworthy when he met him at the party. And as Laura had often told him, there was validity in intuition and hunches. 

"N-" as Remington was beginning to make more excuses and send the crazy man on his way, he noticed something by the doorway. It was a small box with flashing red lights arranged in a circle. And the lights were slowly dimming. A bomb.

"Get out! GET OUT!" he screamed, grabbing Mildred and throwing her to the door. All three of them ran out and down the hall. Seconds later, the blast shook the floor, leaving them in a crumpled heap at the end of the hallway. 

Coughing in the smoke and slowly becoming drenched by the sprinkler system, they all stood up and brushed themselves off. No one was hurt, except for now unseen bruises. 

"This is the work of Omar," the man said gravely. He turned to Steele. "He has your woman. He has done this," he said, gesturing to the debris that had been their office. "Now you must come."

Resolute and intently staring into space, Remington seethed with anger. He would have Laura back and he would make Omar pay for ruining everything she had worked so hard for. "Mildred," he said curtly. "Talk to the insurance people and the building managers. Hire some people to fix this. Then, get us some plane tickets and pack a suitcase."

"Where are we going, boss?"

"Africa."

TBC


	3. Missing You

Laura was reeling from lack of sleep and shock. The past twenty-four hours seemed as a blur on her mind. The party, the assassination attempt, the farewell with Remington, the long plane ride. She desperately wanted to sleep but she could find no solace from her thoughts, proceeding rapid fire through her head. I left him, left him as if foreverit's for the agency's goodit's for my goodno, I'm only happy when I'm with him, that's when I'm normalor when my craziness just seems normal because he makes it that waythe case is importantOmar is an important manOmar isn't **him**something doesn't feel rightwhy didn't I ask him to come with me?because then I'd need a buffer and we all know how that turned outdoes Mildred even know I'm gone?I never got to say goodbye to herit's not the end, I'll see her againand yet, I wonder if I ever will. 

And so it continued as the plane soared through the clouds of the darkened night sky, mingling with the stars, as a woman contemplated the choices she made and the dreams she had had and wondered what the future would bring.

Meanwhile, Remington paced the worn gray carpet at the airport waiting for the minutes to pass. Mildred had took Abdullah, for that was the assassin's real name, as they later learned, to get some coffee. Remington didn't need coffee. His anxiety was enough of a buzz to keep him on edge and his senses on ultra alert. If he had only gotten there a few seconds earlier if he had only spoken his mind before she had made her decision "If only"s became his mantra, as he plodded a path into the floor. 

Their flight was not nearly half as comfortable as Laura's. Stuck in coach, the three were shoved into the very back of the plane. The seats were so small that even Mildred suffered from a lack of leg room. Remington felt as if his knees were lodged in his throat. Abdullah seemed indifferent to the cramped quarters and quickly fell asleep, his head resting on Mildred's shoulder. She shifted and complained of the man's unique smell until she too drifted off, her head resting against the cool glass of the porthole window. 

Remington merely stretched his long legs out into the aisle and after politely refusing the stewardess' advances, he closed his eyes and thought of Laura. Of how he had hurt her, how she had hurt him. Of the time they first spoke. Of the day he first saw her, through the lens of a cheap camera. Of the way her hair fell down upon her shoulders. Of her eyes and the way they looked at him when she thought that he wasn't looking back. The life he knew before her didn't seem to exist. Tonight, he went to sleep thinking of someone other than himself, something that he hadn't done in a very long time. 

Laura could not get over the opulence in which Omar lived. After the jet had landed, a helicopter had transported them to a fortress near the grounds of his palace. Guards rushed round to their posts and stood at attention as Omar disembarked, with Laura at his side. 

"Where are we going now?" Laura asked as they got into a sleek convertible. 

"We go to my home. The people have anxiously awaited my return. No doubt they are ready to welcome me back to my country," he replied, nodding and waving to the men and women that stood in packed lines by the dirt road. They watched the procession of vehicles passively, some holding banners with Omar's face printed on them. 

"They love me!" he proclaimed, with a grin. 

Just then a noise broke through the parade, sounding suspiciously like a shot from a rifle. Omar ducked under the seat, the driver shifted down and Laura looked warily around for a gun and a target. The car behind them in the procession merely suffered from a bad muffler which proceeded to sputter. The procession continued directly onward towards the palace at a fast pace, passing by citizens now highly amused by the their ruler-to-be's performance.

They soon came to the large gates of the palace. Guards quickly leapt to action, moving the large doors to make way for the cars. With a wave of his hand, Omar said, "Welcome to my humble abode," as the car pulled into a large courtyard of an immense estate. 

"You live here?" Laura asked incredulously, surveying her new surroundings with awe. Compared to the small mud brick houses out in the city, Omar's house was practically a state unto itself. 

" It's modest, but I call it home."

Laura raised an eyebrow to this statement. For if the last few hours had taught her anything, it was that Omar was not a modest man. They exited the car and Omar began to show her around. The only telephone she could spot was in the massive library. She politely asked if she could call the agency to let them know she got in okay. Omar nodded and impatiently waited for her to finish. 

Calling the agency, she received a message that the number had been disconnected. 

"That's odd," she remarked, half to herself. Warily glancing at Omar, she quickly added," Wrong number. Guess I misdialled."

This time, instead of dialing the office, she called Mr. Steele's apartment. After 16 rings, she hung up.

"No one in?" Omar asked sweetly.

"Nope. Out to lunch, I suppose." Laura laughed uncomfortably. Where the hell were they? Why weren't the agency phones working? Laura had a bad feeling brewing in her stomach. Half queasy, she obediently followed Omar on a tour through the rest of the house. The rest of the house, that is, with the exception of several rooms on the fifth floor. 

"My offices. Nothing really impressive to see there. Just bare walls and typewriters. Now Laura Holt, you must rest and get ready for tonight. We will dine like royalty!" Leaning in seductively he added, "Hopefully, your new wardrobe will agree with you." With that he left her in her massive suite, all alone with two guards stationed outside her door.

Sighing, she glanced around the room. Going to the end table by the bed, she found a picture of Omar, dressed in full regalia with a smile on his face. She laid it flat on the table in disgust. Going to her suitcase, she pulled out her own frame. Inside was a picture of Remington from the Mediterranean. He was leaning against the railing of a boat, the wind in his hair and the sunlight dancing across his face. _His_ smile was much more appealing thought Laura, as she set it by her bed and then began to catch up on her missing hours of beauty rest.

Remington disembarked from the plane, with Mildred and Abdullah following him down the metal steps. He began to follow the other passengers towards the main building of the airport when Mildred called out to him. Turning around, he saw Abdullah greeting a large group of men on camelback. One even had a stereo strapped to its back, blaring out static and second rate dance mixes in Arabic

Eyeing them warily Mildred remarked, "I don't think all these people are going to fit in our rental car."

Abdullah waved them over, introducing the other Sufis. One pulled up a camel and gestured for Mildred and Steele to get on. 

"Nice camel, nice boy," Mildred said in a faux cheery voice. Gripping Steele's arm, she whispered harshly, " I don't do well with animals. Don't make me do this, pleeeease? Let's go get the car."

Abdullah shot Steele a piercing look. Earlier in the airport, he had warned them both of what would happen to them if they didn't follow his lead. They were either with him or with Omar. Siding with Omar led to a series of painful things that Remington found uncomfortable even to think about. He weakly smiled back and through gritted teeth said to Mildred, "Icy calm, Mildred. Icy calm. It's a stupid animal. Won't hurt you. Think of Rudolph Valentino or Lawrence of Arabia! It's an adventure, eh?"

Returning his weak smile, she struggled onto the camel's back while Remington wound his jacket on his head, creating a makeshift half-turban. Seeing Mildred's difficulties, he gave her backside a shove and agilely climbed up behind her. 

With a banshee shriek from Abdullah, the Sufis and their two new friends began to ride off toward the city.

Laura awoke as the breeze from the open window ruffled her hair. Sitting up, groggy from her nap, she picked up her watch from her bedside table. Dinner would be in a half hour. Rising from the bed, she headed for the bathroom for a quick shower. Minutes later she emerged, in a terry cloth robe with a towel wrapped around her head. She was about to open her suitcase to look for something suitable to wear but then remembered Omar's parting words. Something about new clothes. 

She went to the full length wardrobe that stood next to the vanity table at the other end of the suite and opened its doors. Inside, she found a multitude of outfits. Everything from the typical black sheath of most of the village women to sequined gowns tailored to show décolletage. Lots of décolletage. 

And I bet they're all my size, Laura thought grimacing at the prospect that somehow Omar had figured out her measurements in advance. With a sigh, she picked one of the less revealing ensembles, a black pantsuit of sorts. It wasn't really until she had put it on did she realize that her choice was not as conservative as she had thought. The pants, though voluminous with quantity of fabric were mostly see through. The top, though much less transparent, was tight fitting, molding to her waist and chest. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. The rest would not be much better, she thought eyeing her options. And Omar would almost certainly send her back upstairs if she wore the black villager robes. Maybe I should just wear one of my suits, she mused. Yet that would probably get the same results and offend the others at the dinner. Accepting her fate with a sigh and cursing Omar for his perverted notions, she began to dry her hair. 

Midway through the drying process, she heard a loud knock at the door. It was two women who began to mutter something about being sent by Omar to help her get ready. 

"I'm fine. Just tell him I'll be down in a minute," Laura told them but apparently, they had very little understanding of English. Instead of leaving, they followed her over the vanity table and began fussing with her hair. Laura slapped their hands away but they were insistent and kept invoking Omar's name. 

"I give up," Laura said to no one in particular, and let them arrange her hair as they insisted. 

Meanwhile, Remington and Mildred were bringing up the rear in the long line of camels headed for the city. 

"Boss, I can'ttake much moreof this! My rear end is killin' me!" Mildred moaned. 

"Persevere, Mildred! It's only a few more miles until we stop for the night," Remington said in a not so convincing voice. "I think."

"You think?" Mildred was not very hopeful either. 

"I'm definitely sure that I don't want to walk to Omar's palace," he countered.

"That's if we can walk after this damn camel ride."

"Well, at least the smell isn't that bad."

"You don't have to smell its breath."

"Would you rather smell its behind?"

"You have a point there."

And so they wearily rode on as the sky turned orange with the setting of the sun.

Laura came to dinner expecting to meet with several of Omar's advisors and had hoped to be able to grill them for information concerning the Jewel. She hadn't even established what kind of gem it was yet- if it was a ruby or a diamond or whatever. For once she wished she had the expertise of Mr. Steele to help back her up. Yet he could always give in to temptation and steal it, said a nasty voice at the back of Laura's mind. 

However, all of that didn't matter because when Laura arrived in the massive dining hall, all she found was a candlelight dinner. For two. 

The ladies had endowed Laura with a gauzy veil, a golden headdress of coins and a matching necklace. Feeling foolish and very embarrassed, she made her way to her place next to Omar, very disconcerted with the whole atmosphere he had created. She didn't want to have a candlelight dinner with him dressed as some kind of harem girl from a bad matinee movie. She would rather have that with someone elsewho was miles away and not answering his phone, she thought despondently.

Omar rose when she approached, smiled appreciatively, and pulled out her chair for her to sit down. 

"How lovely you look, Laura Holt." 

"Thank you. You clean up nice yourself."

At this remark, Omar threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, I suppose I do," he commented. "Ah! Hakim! We are ready for the first course," he said, snapping his figures at one of the lackeys lurking in the doorway.

They ate their soup in silence though Laura couldn't help but notice the soulful glances Omar was giving her underneath his thick lashes. Boy, you have some seduction scheme cooked up, pal and I ain't biting was all she could think. He had stifled her attempts to talk about the case. 

"Never mix business with pleasure, Laura Holt."

"You're telling me."

"What? What?"

"Never mind. It'sit's not important."

"Ah. Well, we will talk of that later. Now it is time for the second course!"

As Laura and Omar ate their entrée, Mildred and Remington had finally persuaded Abdullah to stop the riders and begin to set up camp for the night. Mildred limped off the camel and sat on a nice hard rock instead, refusing to help in the least bit, claiming physical and emotional injury. 

They eventually got fires burning and Remington was able to "borrow" some blankets from another Sufi- as all of their luggage was still at the airport. According to Mildred, probably toted away by another group of camel lovin' natives. Their fire was on the fringe of the main group, but Remington was uncertain if that was their doing or Mildred's who did not seem to appreciate them very much after her harrowing experience with the camel. That is, until one of them brought her food. 

It was a nameless stew, something that Remington thought belonged in Oliver or the slums of his youth, with the exception that while those were bland goop this was relatively spicy. Mildred couldn't thank the man enough and had eaten all of hers. She was about to ask Remington for the rest of his when Abdullah came over and asked them how they had liked the camel meat soup. 

Mildred threw up behind her rock.

Laura was thoroughly exasperated. After a very nice meal, which she had to compliment Omar on several times before he relented on asking her if it had been to her liking, she wanted to talk about the case. Omar thought a moonlit stroll was in order to walk off the dinner. Laura pointed out that, though a woman, she did have the capability of walking and talking at the same time, Omar merely smiled deprecatingly and tugged her along through his gardens making esoteric comments about his predecessors. 

" I am going to change the way things are done in this country. We will be culturally defined. I am building an opera house. Do you like opera?"

And so it continued. He rambled on and on, skipping from one topic to the next with incredible ease, slipping in compliments that made Laura blush and feel incredibly uncomfortable. This was not what she wanted. She did not come here to be some sort of consort. She stopped him in the middle of a rant about his roses. 

"Omar, I came here to do a job. To help you find your Jewel. All this attention is very flattering but when can I finally be given some details on this case?"

"All in due time, Laura Holt. We must not rush this. It is a delicate balance in my country. We cannot allow the last straw to break the camel's back."

Laura grimaced at his mixed metaphor and continued walking, this time back towards the house. 

"Tomorrow, my escorts will take you into the city. You will be able to gather information then." Coming close to her, he said softly, "Do not be angry with me, Laura Holt. Things are done differently here. You must be patient. I know that you can do this for you are a woman of considerable talents, I am sure."

"Thank you." Distancing herself from him, she said quickly, " I had better get some sleep then. I want get started bright and early tomorrow." With that, she hurried off to her room before he could say otherwise. 

Tearing off the headdress and veil the second she entered the suite, she stepped out onto her balcony. Resting her arms on the railing, she gazed up at the full moon, illuminating the sky with ghostly white light. She thought exclusively of Remington. Where was he, that no one was answering the agency phone or his apartment phone? She hoped against hope that he had not abandoned her. 

Yet I abandoned himshe thought. He had every reason to leaveno reason to stayif I were a man, I wouldn't wait this long for me eitherwhy was I so stupid?why couldn't I think of his feelings for a change?God, how I miss him! 

With all her heart, she wished that he could be here with her now, and know that she'll never leave his side again. 

And miles away, in the darkness of the desert, Remington looked at the moon and wished the same exact thing. 


	4. Acrobatics and Revelations

While Laura had a fantastic view of the night sky from her balcony, she was also afforded with a sweeping view of the courtyard

Remington sighed audibly. He wished he had had the foresight to bring along a deck of cards so he could cheat at solitaire. Melancholy musing was not going to help him get through this night. He was in love with Laura. Had been from the first. Well, at first, it had merely been lust, he conceded. But, generally, he hadn't needed to lift a finger to get women to fall in love with **him**. But, after all this time, he had no idea about Laura. She had shown signs of affection, attachment, friendship definitely. But not all consuming, passionate, true love. 

To be fair, neither had he. It was difficult, between dead bodies, to sneak in a sunset and a sweet nothing. Now they were apart- Laura probably in danger and blissfully unaware of the fact, doting on Omar with smiles that should be his. Yet, he was rushing to her side like a faithful puppy. Daniel would have laughed in his face if he knew about this. Oh well, noblesse oblige and all that. Whether she cared a flying fig about him or not, he owed it to her to make sure that Omar didn't hurt her or the agency. If she wanted him to stay around after that, it was her decision. 

He sighed again, and Mildred, still recovering, sidled up to him. 

"What's wrong, chief?"

"Ernothing, Mildred. My dinner doesn't seem to agree with me."

"Neither did mine. What I wouldn't give for some real food."

"I believe I saw some oranges lying around earlier."

"They're juggling with them. What am I supposed to do, catch them in midair?" she gestured, back towards the center of camp, where the Sufis were indeed juggling oranges, torches and other paraphenalia. They seemed to be having a great time. 

"I'm sorry, Mildred. I shouldn't have dragged you into this," he said apologetically. "Why don't we see if we can get you a ride back to the airport?"

"And leave Miss Holt in the clutches of that monster? No way, boss. I'm with you," she said firmly. "They've been telling some awful stories about him. And Tarek, one of the boys," she said, jerking her thumb in their direction, "said that this Jewel everybody's clamoring for it's bigger than a breadbox!" she finished excitedly.

"Bigger than a breadbox, eh?"

Mildred nodded enthusiastically. Seeing that Remington's gloomy countenance had not improved, as the mention of precious jewels did generally appeal to him, she frowned. "It's Miss Holt, isn't it?"

"Hmmmm?"

Motherly concern crept into her voice as she patted Remington's shoulder. "Don't worry, Mr. Steele. She'll be okay."

"I hope so, Mildred. I really hope so."

***

While Laura had a fantastic view of the night sky from her balcony, she was also afforded with a sweeping view of the courtyard in the middle of the grounds. Search-lights swept the garden and the doorways of the lower level from the guard tower at the palace wall. The oppressive atmosphere only made Laura feel worse. Sighing at her thoughts, she was about to return inside when she thought she saw something move down below. 

She went to the railing and peered down. Three men in black suits, two carrying a large case, were proceeding to one of the rooms on the far right. Laura racked her memory. What the hell was that room? 

Then she remembered. It was a mixture of a sitting room and an office. It was very spacious and had an impressive mahogany desk in front of the window. It also connected with Omar's offices upstairs- there was another staircase, she thought, trying to remember the floor plan, right behind a door at the very back of the room. She was shuffled out of there more quickly than some of the other stops on the grand tour. Omar seemed very possessive about his offices.

Or he was hiding something, thought Laura. And she was pretty sure that was it. Why else would these men be lugging large trunks into the house in the middle of the night? Did they think she was stupid?

No, they just see me as a woman, she mused grimacing. Head full of cotton, hay and rags. 

Where had she heard that before? Oh God, he's got me doing it again. Rex Harrison said it in.

"AAAAGH!" A man in a white robe and turban came running out of the room with his hand on fire. Screaming and waving his limb in agitation, he ran to the fountain on the edge of the garden and quenched his arm in the water. He then began to curse in what Laura supposed was lurid Arabic. It was Omar. And his trademark grin was nowhere to be seen.

"You bastard! You have burnt my hand!" he screamed.

One of the suits, gesturing wildly, began to reply in a thick Cockney accent, "Look, look, Aye didn't say it wouldn't burn, aye said it wouldn't **urt**. See," he lifted up Omar's wide sleeve and turned his hand at the wrist, "No blisterin,' no blisterin.' Aye told you, Aye've done it undreds o' times on stage."

"You foolish idiot, this is not a cheap theatrical stunt. This is a miracle! My people have to believe it!"

"Omar, trust me, trust me! If I can make gods out o' rock n' roll stars, just imagine wot Aye can do for you," the suit replied, brushing off Omar's galabiya in a friendly like manner. 

Omar was not placated. In a voice that made Laura recoil, he said, "For your information, I am not a rock and roll star. The people must believe I have the same powers as the Jewel. If they do not, all my plans are foiled! And you, you will not be doing anything on stage anymore."

"Point taken. Aye've got some other stuff in the trunk- would you like to see that, then? Right," and he returned to the office with Omar following behind him.

What the hell was that about? Laura wondered. Something was going on. Omar was certainly up to something. He had mentioned the Jewel. Something about the power to perform miracles. What kind of stone was this? She had to get more information. But how? She couldn't get out of the palace without the express permission of Omar and then probably only taken to the places he would allow. It would be next to impossible to track down somebody who knew exactly what the Jewel is, much less where to find it. And if she did find somebody, it probably wouldn't matter since she couldn't speak the language.

The language. Aha! The first genuine clue she had had that something about Omar was not as he claimed was the assassin. Who had screamed El-d'Jahara before plunging the knife in his chest. What did that mean?

With my luck, it's probably just some dirty word, thought Laura pessimistically while she searched her luggage for the Arabic dictionary Omar had given her. 

El d'Jahara. The Jewel. 

Why would someone want to kill Omar for the Jewel? He hasn't got it. If he had it, why would he hire me to find it?

But then, why would he hire me in the first place? Why not get a few hundred extra of his black clad lackeys to go running down the Nile waving their guns and force whoever stole it to come forward?

Laura realized that the only place she could find answers to her questions were the places Omar had forbidden: his offices. Grateful for the black clothing, Laura retrieved the veil from where she had thrown it. Seeing the guards positioned at her door, she couldn't very well get to them in the conventional way. 

So she climbed over the balcony's railing and began to inch her way along the wall, balanced precariously on a small ledge just underneath the windows. It was slow; her balance was shaky and she had to keep stopping every time the searchlights swept that side of the courtyard. Her room had been on the fourth floor, and she dared not to take the stairways up for fear that guards would be stationed there as well. 

When she came to a stretch of wall out of the reach of the lights, she inched under one of the office balcony's and grabbed hold of the ledge. She was hanging only by her hands now, gripping the iron gates that held the railing and slowly pulling herself upward. Eventually, she got one foot up onto the ledge and with the additional leverage, pulled herself upright against the railing. She easily climbed over it and with a good shove, opened the one of the double doors that led to Omar's office.

The room was spacious, and the same design that donned her bedroom walls decorated its interior. In the middle of the room was a large desk, cluttered with papers. She approached it and in the darkness, tried to read them. It wasn't until the searchlights swept by again did she get a clear look at the papers. 

War plans. Omar was planning a massive military attack on all surrounding tribes. The impetus seemed to be originating from the city of Kadir in the south. 

Kadir. Where had she heard that name before? That was where Omar was to be made emperor. In three days. That was her deadline to find the Jewel- before his inauguration ceremony.

More like his coup d'etat, Laura grimaced, replacing the papers. So much for Omar's vision. Obviously, his people didn't have as much confidence in his leadership as he had let on. So, whether they liked it or not, he was going to proclaim himself emperor in three days time. And if they didn't like it, they could roll over for a tank. Laura had seen quite a few of those at Omar's private "airport." More like his personal military compound.

But why did he need the Jewel? Did he think he needed a miracle to beat his people into submission? They were poor, desert people. They didn't value precious stones; they valued water and shelter. And their lives. Things which Omar probably wouldn't let them keep if they contested his imperial power. 

Laura began to pace. She tried desperately to think of every small detail she had heard about the Jewel. It had great religious significance supposedly. So what? Was Omar preparing to claim divine right to rule? 

Suddenly, she heard voices outside the door. Omar and the suit! DAMN! Where could she hide? There weren't a lot of options. Under the table? Yeah. Right. Like they wouldn't spot her there. The gauzy curtains on the balcony doors wouldn't be able to conceal anything. The balcony itself? It was worth a try. 

"In three days! If it weren't for the Jewel, I'd have led my people to power long ago." Omar's booming voice became clearer and louder as he proceeded into the office. "Westerners understand nothing. The Jewel represents the spiritual world of my people. Unless I can convince them that I am their spiritual leader, they will never follow me into battle. That is why you are here." 

"It can be done. Aye can have the sound stage up in a few ours at the most! It's the pyrotechnics that are gonna cost you. That's got to be shipped special, and it's expensive too."

"Money is no object. As long as the performance continues as planned, you shall be paid. If I am not satisfied, if the people do not believe, I do not think I have to explain what shall happen to you."

"No, sire. Crystal clear in all respects," the man nervously replied, adjusting his tie. 

Laura scrutinized this scene from the balcony, attempting to remain invisible, couched behind the door and the side railing. He wasn't exceptionally tall, medium build, and had very greasy hair, she observed, looking distastefully at the back of his head, glistening with oil. Why would Omar hire a special effects expert for the ceremony? 

"Sir, I do have one, small request," the man said tenatively.

Omar turned around to face him. He had been looking in the mirror on the wall. God, couldn't he get enough of his reflection! Between the mirrors and the photographs just build yourself a shrine already! "And what is that?"

"AyeAye would like to know wot exactly we're imitatin' ere. Cuz it would be my profound hope that your people are thoroughly convinced an' all. Wot aye'm sayin' iswot kind of techniques is this guy usin' so that Aye can create something on a comparable scale."

"Comparable to a miracle."

"Yes. You've been sayin' that. But wot kind of miracle, specifically?"

Omar let out a cry of frustration. "We will go see him now." With a wave of his robe, he strode out of the room, the greasy man following close on his heels with Omar's bodyguards.

Laura burst back into the room the second they had closed the door. Where were they going? And who was it that they were going to see? Frustrated, she opened the door a crack to see them beginning to ascend the stairs. The roof. And there were more guards by the stairwell. Damn. 

Laura returned to the balcony. If she could hoist herself onto the ledge above the double doors, she could pull herself onto the roof. Warily, she glanced down to the courtyard floor five stories below. "Well, here goes nothing," she muttered, and began to climb onto the railing. Teetering on the thin metal, she made a grab for the ledge. She had her hands wrapped around the stone jutting out from the wall. She desperately searched blindly for a foothold, but her feet merely hit the glass doors, and kept slipping. She silently cursed herself for wearing the slippers. 

Using the doorframe as leverage, she twisted her body to the side and slowly inched upwards, eventually gaining enough height to pull herself up. Now standing on the edge, she easily climbed onto the roof, which hadn't been as far up as she had assumed. Walking along the tiles now, she crept along until she reached the end of the building. A few feet below her was a large sandstone staircase, a landing and a door. 

That must be where they're headed! She jumped down and as she approached the door, she heard them coming from below. She scrambled up the remaining steps where it reached a dead end. Keeping flat against the wall, she heard them approach the door and the jangling of keys. They entered the room. 

Laura moved close to the edge of the small landing. She could see through a small slit in the wall. It was a sparse room, nothing on the walls and the only furniture a small cot. She saw Omar, looking very angry and very dangerous, standing over a slight male figure, clothed in less elegant striped robes. 

"Tell me how it's done, magician," he ordered malevolently. Presumably, he had requested this in English so that the greasy suit could understand.

"Is not magic trick, is miracle," the man answered in kind.

Omar slapped him, causing him to fall backwards. Apparently, the man wore glasses, because they flew off his face and onto the dusty floor. He gingerly picked them up and replaced them onto his face, hooking them behind his ears with care.

"I am losing patience with you."

"But you cannot kill me. Even you are superstitious. El d'Jahara lives!"

Laura furrowed her brow. The Jewellives? What did this have to do with Omar's prisoner? 

"In two nights, it will not matter," Omar said with a lordly sneer. With a curt "Yalla" to his men, they exited the room and Laura heard the jingling of keys once more. 

Laura glanced around at her options. She couldn't very well come back the way she came. Stepping onto the ledge of the staircase, she climbed effortlessly onto the roof of the small room. The thatched roof seemed very fragile so she carefully began to move upwardsuntil the roof caved in underneath her and she found herself falling straight down.

Luckily, she fell directly onto the cot, bringing with her a portion of the roof and lots of dust. Coughing she struggled to sit up. 

The man had been retying his turban and turned around. He blinked at her a few times from behind his glasses and said quietly, looking up at the ceiling, "A woman. Most unexpected."

Laura got up from the cot and brushed past the man, circling the room. "I gotta get out of here. I've gotta stop Omar."

"Did you bring an army?" the man asked her, continuing to affix the cloth to his head. 

Taken a bit aback, she stuttered, "No. No. I'm just Laura Holt." She moved to the sole window above the cot, and grabbed the bars, looking for a way out.

"Just Laura Holt? I am El d-Jahara. The Jewel of the Nile." He finished tying his turban and extended his hand.

"El d-Jahara?" said Laura questioningly. She stopped and looked at him. This thin little man, with big glasses and a short black beard was the Jewel? "I don't understand. How can you be the Jewel?"

"It is my title. For the moment. In two nights, Omar will proclaim himself emperor at the holy city of Kadir and without me to oppose him, he will march across North Africa like a mad man."

Then Omar and his bodyguards burst into the room. The door clanged against the sandstone wall with the force of their entry. Omar spoke, "But the world will see me as a savior to my people."

"The world won't believe you," said Laura. "I've been in your office. I've seen your _vision_. I'm going to tell the world the truth about you!"

"If I had wanted the world to know the truth, I would have hired your boss," he said nastily. "Why do you think I brought you here? To find the truth? The Jewel? I brought you here so that you could announce the discovery I tell you: that the neighboring tribes had murdered the Jewel out of jealous spite."

"So that the people continue to back your bloodbath and the Western world believes you are a modern crusader," Laura finished bitterly.

"See? I told you that you were good. And that is exactly what you will do in two days time."

"Do you think no one knows I'm here?" Laura countered.

"Ah, yes. Your boss. Mr. Steele. I forgot to tell you. Steele is dead."

Startled and refusing to believe him, she babbled, "Don't be ridiculous. Mr. Steele would never die without telling me. You lie." And yet, there was a sinking feeling in her chest. The unanswered phones.

"Nevertheless, he is dead," Omar said coldly. He turned to leave and added sarcastically, "You look pale, Miss Holt. Allow me to send for my personal physician." With that he slammed the door shut with as much fury as he had opened it with, leaving Laura alone with the Jewel. 

As if in a daze, she moved over to the cot and sat down, barely conscious of her movements. Her eyes began to fill with tears; she could barely see. She whispered, "It can't be true. It can't be" 

The ringing of the phones echoed in her ears. He can't be deadit's a ruseI'm responsible for his deathI never told him how I feltI'm all aloneit's my faultI practically killed himand I love himso muchhe's gone.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the Jewel. "This Steele he is friend for you?" he asked gently.

"Yes. He is my best friend." With that, she began to weep. Curling herself up into a ball on the cot, she cried until it hurt. Without any tears left and no voice, she silently sobbed herself to sleep, the pain in her chest not subsiding until merciful oblivion overcame her. 

  



	5. Alive! But For How Much Longer?

When Remington awoke, he almost forgot where he was. The braying of a camel sounded suspiciously like his alarm clock buzzer. He rolled over and in an attempt to hit the snooze button, found nothing but sand and rock. Opening his eyes to the brightness of the desert and the morning sun, he groaned. Still stuck in the desert. Sitting up and attempting to brush the sand off his tailored suit, he saw Mildred curled up on her rock. 

The Sufis had already dismantled most of the camp. Abdullah came over and informed him they were leaving immediately. 

Remington went over and gently shook Mildred awake. She cracked her eyes open just a little and said groggily, "Just a few more minutes I don't have to be in for at least an hour" swatting away his hand.

"Mildred, darling, wake up. Come on, then," he urged, trying to prop her up.

"Huh, oh Boss, I had the worst nightmare." She sat up and brushing her hair back, groaned as she surveyed the surrounding desert.

"One hell of a dream, isn't it?" Remington said with a smile. "Come on, before they leave without us." 

Mildred staggered to her feet, gripping her behind and limping. "Ooh, ooh, ow! Oooh, I don't think I can walk," she wailed. 

"There's always a camel."

"What do you know? All cured."

The city was not that far off. Within minutes, they could see the high walls surrounding it, looking suspiciously like a fortress and not a city limit. Small camps littered the area and recently squelched fires lent scent to the air. A few hundred feet away from the walls' great pylon, Abdullah ordered the Sufis to stop. 

He turned to Remington and Mildred. "We must stop here. It is dangerous for Sufis to enter Omar's city," he remarked, gesturing to the guards on the battlements, pacing back and forth with machine guns. 

"Well, now, wait a minute, friend, but this chap's already tried to kill us once!" said Remington.

"Yeah! Just how do you think that we'll do any better than you?" Mildred piped indignantly. 

At this, the Sufis withdrew their swords and pointed them at the pair. Mildred scooted back and gripped Remington's arm.

"You are guest of Omar," Abdullah said pointedly to Remington. "Find the Jewel. Accept your destiny."

Remington gazed at the city walls and then back at Abdullah and his friends. With his trademark grin, he pushed his sunglasses back on his nose and with a wave of his hand, said, "Onward, then."

Mildred scowled. "Destiny, my"

"Let's go, Mildred!" Remington said, tugging her away before she could get herself into trouble. 

She shook her fist at Abdullah as she walked toward the gate with Remington. "One day, buddy"

***

The Jewel awoke to falling stones pelting the side of his face. Bewildered, he reached for his glasses on the floor. Looking up, he saw Laura standing on the cot and chipping away at the rock around the window's iron bars. 

She had gotten up early that morning, resolving not to feel sorry for herself. There was one way to deal with this situation and that was to work. To do what any PI worth their salt would do. Make an escape plan. 

"What are you doing?" he asked tentatively.

"I'm trying to separate the mortar from the frame of the bars. I have to get out of here. He can't just imprison us... like this," Laura grunted, as she furiously hacked away at the wall with a piece of wood she had pried from the frame. 

"Ah, but it is not the bars that make the prison. It is the desert," the Jewel said wisely. 

"So? I'll travel at night. I don't careI've got to stop Omar. I've got to get out of here if I'm going to warn the authorities about him and his plans. I have to get to Kadir." Laura paused in her furious scraping, and turned to face the Jewel. "No. Wait. Wait a minute. **You're** the one who needs to get to Kadir." As she spoke, she waved the wooden plank at him. He scooted back, watching her warily. "You said so yourself, you're the only one who can stop Omar. By appearing before the people- they won't follow him if you're there to contradict what he says! You've got to come with me!"

The Jewel looked at her curiously, fingering his chin. "Ah, maybe, you _are_ the one. I accept. We are sworn, Just Laura." He stuck out his hand.

Laura swung the plank forward, forgetting herself, as the Jewel ducked. Laughing, she transferred it to her other hand, and shook his hand.

"Right. But," she continued, as she went to work on the window again, "it's just Laura."

"Right. Just Laura."

"Right," and she attacked the window again, venting her anger with Omar and her grief over Remington into hard thwacks against the rock.

"Please please," the Jewel stepped up onto the cot next to her. "Allow me." Laura handed him the plank, but he waved it away. Instead, he gripped the iron frame and with a tug, pulled it in its entirety away from the wall. 

"Magic," Laura said, with genuine amazement. Perhaps this man truly could perform miracles. 

"Dry rot," the Jewel nodded, and proceeded to help Laura through the open window. 

***

As Mildred and Remington approached the entrance to Omar's palace, they slowed their steps. Mildred gripped his arm. "Mr. Steele, what are we going to do?" she asked worriedly. "It's not like we can just walk up to those bozos and ask em to hand over the Jewel and Miss Holt!" She gestured to the heavily armed guards standing at their posts.

"Calm yourself, Mildred," Remington said, shrugging into his jacket. "Just let me handle it, okay?"

"Can I wait over there?" she said, pointing to a nearby darkened shed. 

"Ah- perhaps you'd better stay with me. Who knows what is lurking in every corner."

"Good point, boss."

Remington strode up to the guards at the gate. Smiling, he spoke in a loud voice, "Oh hallo, hallo, my good chaps! My name is Remington Steele and I'm here to see a Miss Laura Holt, who happens to be a guest of your boss- Omar I believe. Now if you'll just announce me" he said, trying to walk by them. 

They had other ideas. With a forceful shove, they moved him away from the entrance and began babbling in Arabic. 

"What's going on?" whispered Mildred.

"I have no idea," he whispered back.

Eventually, another man attired in the black guard gear came over and the men began their babbling anew. They addressed him as Rashid.

"Ah, Rashid. My good man, will you tell these chaps not to worry, I'm a friend of Laura Holt's. Just thought I'd pop by for a spot of tea and a chit chat, you know, while I'm in the neighborhood," Remington drawled.

"Laura Holt does not want to see you," Rashid said stonily.

"Ah," said Remington deflated. She doesn't want to see me?, he thought bitterly. Incredibly hurt, he pressed on. "Perhaps I should introduce you to Ms. Futush of the US Embassy." He gestured to Mildred. She apparently didn't get it.

"Ms. Futush," he said, nudging her in the arm. 

"Oh, yes, right," she said with a nervous laugh and approached the looming form of Rashid. Switching into her nastiest IRS Fraud Squad voice, she boomed, "You don't want to create an international incident, buster, or the UN will be all over you like hot fudge on an ice cream sundae. After all, she is an American citizen."

"If you let us see her," interjected Remington, "I promise, no paperwork. Mum's the word."

"Or I can haul you in for obstructing a diplomatic investigation," Mildred threatened, raising one of her eyebrows.

Rashid growled something in Arabic as a reply and after shouting orders at the guards, he stalked off. Remington and Mildred tried to follow but we again prevented and shoved into the street.

"I don't suppose he's getting Miss Holt," Mildred said, with no hope in her voice.

"No." Remington merely walked away, kicking up dust.

"He's lying. Miss Holt would have never said that. I'd like to go over there and give him one right on the kisser!" she said angrily, waving her fist in the air. 

"Discretion might be wise, hmmm?" he said, eyeing the guards who were now watching Mildred like hawks, and slowly pulled her down the street.

As they walked down the road, passing vendors and panhandlers, through the exotic smells and cries of "baksheesh," Laura and the Jewel began racing across the mud brick roof tops. The Jewel was ahead of Laura, leading her way as they moved across buildings, unbeknownst to all below. 

Unfortunately, one of the guards half asleep at his post, saw them, and crying out to his companion, they began rushing after them, waving their machine guns and screaming. Laura whipped her head around to see them coming, still two building away- for they had been a floor below the roof on a balcony when the fugitives were sighted, but were closing in fast. Sooner or later, they'd get friends. 

Laura grabbed the Jewel's arm and pointed to the men. He said, "Maybe we should try running on the ground?"

He began to help Laura lower herself down a level, onto a thin ledge protruding from the building's façade. As she was dangling by her arms, she glanced at the drop below- and started, because there were two extremely familiar forms walking down the road- one of whom by all accounts was dead.

"Mr. Steele!" Laura cried out, as bullets began to zing past her head, the guards having caught up with them. "You're alive!"

Remington and Mildred were stopped dead in their tracks, looking up at a struggling Laura, who for all intents and purposes was supposed to be inside the palace. Remington, still hurt from Rashid's rebuff, yelled back, "Going out of your way to get rid of me, eh?"

Laura, frustrated with his coldness and her imminent danger, as she ducked from another round of fire, screamed out , "You bastard!" 

Remington didn't receive the full force of her insult, as the Jewel lost his grip on her forearms in the process of ducking from that self-same line of fire, and as she screamed she fell several stories into a vendor's fabric tent. The tent promptly ripped from the impact and sent her downwards still into another draped rooftop, which due to its angle, she quickly rolled off of- straight into Remington's arms. 

"Oof!" was all he could get out, as they both fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. When the dust cleared, Laura, on top of Remington now, grabbed his face and kissed him soundly on the lips. 

"They told me you were dead- and I couldn't get through on the office phone- it had been disconnected- you weren't home- I thought you'd left- and then — oh you're never to die on me again- you hear me!" she finished angrily. 

"Why can't you be this passionate when I'm **not** presumed dead?" he said, smiling up at her.

"AAUGH!" she said, thoroughly exasperated. She got up and brushed herself off, with the help of Mildred whose eyes glistened over with tears of joy.

"Oh, thank goodness you're all right, Miss Holt. We were so worried. Now we can finally get the hell out of this place."

Meanwhile, the Jewel, opening up the umbrella he had been carrying, had jumped off the rooftop and landed lightly on the first canopy. He gracefully descended the rest of the way down and took Laura by the arm.

"Come, come, this way," he said, dragging her off in the direction in which Remington and Mildred had just come, the guards gaining in number up above- some even attempting to slowly take the same route down.

"And who the hell is that?" Remington asked Laura, indignantly.

"He's a a friend," she stammered, following the Jewel.

Remington and Mildred followed. "You made _friends _in there?" he asked, stunned.

They ran through a maze of old tires and finally crouched down behind a small wall and the large baskets of a nearby weaver's shop. The fire continued, causing them all to flinch and duck,

It subsided for a few seconds, and Remington took the opportunity to tug Laura's arm in one direction. "C'mon, let's get out of here!"

"Wait. Mr. Steele- he's coming with us," she said, unmoving and gesturing to the Jewel. 

"Lauraaaaa! I've come half way across Africa to rescue you-" he shouted angrily, half drowned out by the noise of gunshots.

She interrupted him. "Rescue me? I was doin' just **fine** without _you_!" 

The Jewel turned to Remington. "I am guide. I can help you."

"I don't need a bloody guide- I need a bloody miracle!"

"He's coming with us!" Laura said firmly. 

"Boss–please!" wailed Mildred, covering her head with her hands, afraid to look up.

Another blast of gunshots rang out, ricocheting off the wall and pulverizing the baskets.

"All right, all right," he sighed, peering out over the side. But if we get out of this alive, I'm never coming back to this town again."

And that, he began to run down the street, with Laura and the Jewel close behind. Mildred, on the other hand, was stumbling slowly along, shielding her face with her arms. As they turned the corner, she was left behind.

Omar, called out of his business meeting, looked out at the town from his balcony and frowned. That damn woman and her friends! He and several guards made their way downstairs towards the entrance to the palace.

Meanwhile, outside the city's gates, the Sufis had heard the commotion. Fearing for El- d'Jahara, they mounted their horses and camels. With banshee war cries, they rode off to the gates, waving rifles in the air and raising gleaming scimitars, to take back their holy man from Omar.

Mildred, hearing much less gunshots, finally felt safe enough to lower her arms so that she could see where she was running. The boss and Laura and her new friend were nowhere to be seen. Nervous and scared, she ran onwards, finally stopping in front of a familiar façade- the entrance to the palace. 

She was stopped in her tracks by the dozens of guards suddenly pouring out of the entrance, heavily armed and fierce looking. With a frightened smile plastered onto her face, she said weakly, "Hi, how are you, looking good today," to no one in particular. Slowly walking backwards to go into the palace to escape the guards, she bumped into something. Or rather someone: Omar.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"Hey- don't provoke me, mister. You know how hot it is here? It's a hundred and twenty in the shade! I'm just looking for my friends."

Rashid came around and grabbed Mildred by the collar, angrily speaking to Omar in Arabic. The only thing Mildred caught was the mention of Laura. Omar looked menacingly at her.

"I'm like this with Weinburger," she stammered, crossing her fingers. "You cross me and he'll be all over you like a cheap suit."

Rashid was forced to release her, however, for the Sufis had infiltrated into the town, and a small skirmish had ensued. Sufis whipped their swords around their heads, running Omar's men through as they rode through the streets, sounding off their rifles. Omar shouted more orders to Rashid and the two men retreated inside, as the Sufis approached the entranceway. Scared of her temporary traveling companions, Mildred attempted to hide within the palace walls as well, but was forced out. 

She stumbled through the fighting men to the other side of the street, wincing as they smashed one another's faces with gun butts, swords and fists. "I have to get out of here," she mumbled, and just then was rewarded by spotting a nearby shed. Inside, one donkey was tethered. 

"Ah! Better than a camel!" she said with relief, and entering the shed, moved to the side of the donkey to inch by to untie its lead. Unfortunately for Mildred, the donkey, feeling Mildred's presence, for some reason, decided to sit down. On her. Face down in hay, with an ass on her back, she cried out pitifully, "Mr. Steele!"

Remington, Laura and the Jewel had been running the maze of the city streets with little success, still being followed by guards and gunshots. Losing speed and breath, they turned another corner- straight into a dead end.

"Great. Now what?" Laura asked.

"Over the wall!" Remington ordered, agilely climbing over it. 

When Laura came down on the other side, she was afforded a different view of the "airport" which she had arrived at only the day before. His private jet was still there, yet now, the several non-descript objects that had been covered with tarps were out in the clear. Lines of tanks. Boxes of weapons. Barrels of gas. And one lone white fighter plane, whose cockpit was conveniently open. 

And as Remington pointed out, it was safer than crouching behind some gas barrels, getting ready to be blown up as well as shot through when the guards inevitably found them again. 

So the three of them got into the plane, Remington in the front and Laura and the Jewel sharing the backseat. They crouched down low, hoping not to be seen. Remington had found a flare gun in the front seat and held it in his hands, expecting someone to show up. And somebody did. The pilot. He had climbed up the ladder and was about to enter into the cockpit when Remington pulled himself up and leveled the gun at the man's chest.

"All right mate, your estimated time of departure is right about now." 

The man half-climbed, half-fell down the ladder, and scrambling to his feet, began shouting at them in Arabic, mentioning Omar and baring his chest triumphantly. 

The significance of this gesture was lost on Remington and Laura, now anxious as more men began to appear. The Jewel merely smiled, and seeing the throttle in the back seat, he gently nudged it forward with one finger, causing the plane to move and the cockpit shield to automatically come down.

"What are you doing?" Laura screamed at Remington.

"I have no idea! As far as I know, I'm not doing anything!" He grabbed hold of the front seat controls experimentally and wiggled them around. 

"Well, do **some**thing dammit!" she screamed back, as the plane turned, headed straight for a large wall. 

To be continued.. 

  



	6. Auntie Em! Auntie Em!

Remington grabbed the stick in front of him in a panic, inadvertently squeezing the trigger of the plane's machine guns. A rapport of rapid fire riddled the wall, causing large chunks of sandstone to fall to the ground. Elated at the new development, Remington turned behind him to smile at Laura. "Everything under control, eh?"

As he turned, his hands still guiding the joystick, the plane moved with him. Now, instead of speeding into a wall, they were headed toward the other military vehicles and personnel in the compound. Screaming men ran in all directions. 

Remington simply kept moving the joystick and shooting at things. A car blew up on their right, and Laura let out a hurrah from the back. "That'll show 'em!"

With renewed determination and a bit more confidence in his ability to handle the plane, Remington remarked, "Let's get the hell outta here!" 

He headed the plane in the direction of the entrance to the city. There was two connected wooden gates, a guard post at each end. As the guards saw the jet headed in their direction, they ran off terrified. 

Remington tried to ease the plane slowly through but it was no use. "This is going to be close," he yelled over the engine roar, as the nose of the plane knocked through the gates and the wings toppled the posts on both ends. 

The plane began to make its way to the other end of the city. People ran for their lives, shops were demolished, tents crushed.

The fighting in the streets between Omar's guards and the Sufi's momentarily suspended, as the men looked up in awe to see the jet careening through the streets. Then, like everyone else, they scattered in all directions. 

Omar, on a balcony of his palace, watched the destruction of his city and cursed luridly. He gestured wildly to his men- something had to be done. They had to be stopped.

Mildred was still trapped underneath the donkey. She gave up all lady like pretenses and while she squirmed, hurled insults at everything and everyone she could think of. Especially the donkey.

Nevertheless, with all the pandemonium, the Jewel, next to Laura in the back of the plane, was having a wonderful time. "This is my first time in airplane," he remarked, smiling. 

Remington's arms had begun to tire from waving people away from the jet. He shook the controls in frustration. "How do you stop this bloody thing?"

Laura leaned over the seat. "Don't you know where you're going?" she accused angrily.

"Laura- this isn't exactly the Auburn, okay?"

The plane now passed Omar's palace and the Sufi's fighting there, including Abdullah, also began to flee. As Abdullah wiped the sweat of battle out of his eyes, he spotted Remington in the cockpit. And more importantly, he saw the Jewel behind him.

"El d'Jahara!" he screamed, pointing his scimitar at the plane. "El d'Jahara!" 

His comrades that had not already departed, began to mount their horses, taking note of "the Westerner's treachery."

Furious, Abdullah whirled around to find his steed, when he noticed two familiar feet protruding from under a donkey's ass in a shed across the street. He stomped forward and dragged Mildred out from under the animal.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, so much for rescuing me! I can't tell you…"

Abdullah cut her off, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her up to her tiptoes. "Your friend steal the Jewel!" he said angrily.

"What? What are you talking about? Mr. Steele would never…."

"You are liar to me. You are dead." 

Mildred gulped audibly as he released her, and stood in the middle of the road watching people scurry this way and that. Abdullah glared at her one last time and with a flurry of robes, mounted his horse, let out a banshee cry, and rode off in the direction of the plane. 

"Boss!" she cried out. "What about me? What about Miss Holt?" Feeling that her situation was hopeless, she threw up her hands, and on the verge of tears, she sat down on the dusty ground. "What am I gonna do now?"

Remington and Laura now had their own problems. They had turned the corner, into the bazaar of fullers and dyers, with Omar's men in close pursuit. Several jeeps filled with armed men beeped loudly behind the jet. 

The wings knocked over shacks and it began to haul the fabrics hung in lines above the shops in its wake. Luckily for them, the enormous weight of the drying cloth and the large number of them, caused half of the fabric to fall off- right onto the pursuing jeeps, momentarily blinding the drivers and causing their share of accidents.

They cleared the bazaar, finally reaching the main gate. Larger than the plane and of hard stone, it was a dead end. Remington squeezed the trigger again, but with no reaction this time. 

He laughed nervously. "Wouldn't you know…all out of bullets?" 

"We can't sit here!" Laura protested. Pointing to a switch on his left, she ordered, "Try that one."

"Backseat driver." He flicked the switch. Nothing happened. Nothing that was visible to them anyway. Underneath the plane, one of its rockets had fallen to the ground and remained under the plane's right wing. 

"Now what?" Remington asked sarcastically and began to bang the control panel out of frustration. 

With luck, he hit the rocket's activation button and with sparks flying, the rocket hurtled towards the gate. It exploded- kicking up a wind of dirt, sand and fire. 

Part laughing and part crying out for joy, Laura gave Remington's shoulder a squeeze. "Not bad for your first time."

He grinned, nodding his head. "I aim to please." He moved the plane forward just as the Omar's men had cleared the dyers' bazaar. 

Back in the heart of the city, Mildred had finally persuaded the donkey to let her mount him and was kicking him along down the street. As she bobbed up and down, her feet only inches from the ground, she muttered, "Come on. Come on, you dumb animal. We'll get him. Hurry on, now, Mr. Steele's getting away. When I get my hands on him….cut-rate con man…deserting me here….move it, come on, you flea-ridden…."

Remington and Laura couldn't shake off Omar and his men. Omar himself rode in the lead car, alternately yelling curses and orders at his soldiers. 

"We can't keep this up forever!" Remington said disparingly, hoping Laura would have a plan. 

"Well, we can't stop now!" Pausing, realization dawned on Laura. "Where the hell is Mildred?"

"Safe. I hope. We made some friends too." Remington offered up a silent prayer that their secretary still was in one piece. 

The Jewel pointed straight ahead and casually remarked, "Sandstorm."

"Uh-oh," said Laura.

"Bloody hell," muttered Remington. 

Omar's car sped up and now was parallel to the jet, just clearing the wings. Omar climbed onto the sideboard and took careful aim with a pistol. He fired at the cockpit, leaving a bullet hole in the glass inches away from Remington's shoulder. He continued to wave at the plane, asking them to stop.

Shocked at the near-miss, Remington again tried to make sense of the control panel. Squinting at the tornado of sand that lay ahead of them, he found the after burner switch. 

"What are you going to do?" Laura asked.

"Either save us or kill us," he said, and flicked the switch. The after burners kicked in, and in a burst of speed, the plane flew ahead of Omar. His own vehicle was thrown off by the movement and swerved wildly, causing Omar to scream again at his men. 

The plane headed into the storm and was soon enveloped by wind and sand. In a matter of seconds, it had disappeared from sight. 

Omar's car stopped on the perimeter, and he held up his hands for the following cars to stop as well. Looking into the storm, Omar let out a scream of fury. Still enraged, he and his men hunkered down to brace themselves for the onslaught. 

TBC….


	7. Which Way to Kadir?

Mildred stumbled over the sand dunes. The heat of the sun baked her skin and perspiration trickled down her face from her temples. She was hot, she was tired and she had never felt so utterly alone. The boss had deserted her! Left her for dead! Left her with those crazy sadistic camel-lovin jockeys! All to go after some jewel. The leopard hadn't changed its spots after all. Mildred wished that Miss Holt would see through his ruse- and rescue her. 

She was forced to walk, having lost the donkey a ways back when it bucked her from its saddle. She had tried to reason with it, but fearful that it would sit on her again, she simply decided to walk. And walk she did. She only hoped she was headed toward the airport

Her knees buckled and she fell onto the sand, rolling down a dune to rest at its base. 

Then, the Sufis rose up from the sand like nightmarish goblins. Shaking themselves off, Abdullah grabbed Mildred by the collar. Several of his comrades had come round her, cursing and shouting. One drew his sword, and dragging Mildred into a kneeling position by her hair, he held it at her throat.

She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Abdullah pointed a long finger at her. "You stole our Jewel!" he accused.

"No, no, it wasn't me! I swear to God on my eyes, I've never seen that Jewel!" she wailed. 

Abdullah scoffed at her and the man with the sword pressed its blade nearer to her neck. Of course she had seen the Jewel! Was she blind? Or did she take them for fools! 

"Wait, wait, wait!" she cried. "You need me! I can help! Boys, please!"

"You are traitor!" Abdullah said sternly.

"No! No! Stop saying that! Friends don't stab each other in the back! We can team up- we can find them, get em real good. They won't know what hit em. He."

She knew that they could take her to the boss and he would fix everything. If only they didn't kill her first. How she wished she never left the IRS! 

And she continued to plead with them for her life, ignorant of what they fought for. 

***

The plane had run into a large dune, saving them the difficulty of figuring out how to stop its movement. They had climbed out of the cockpit once the sand cleared and had positioned themselves on the rocky hill immediately above the plane.

Remington had found a compass in the jet and was using it and a map to figure out where the hell they were. He had finally gotten a good look at Laura's ensemble, so to speak, and it aroused him and scared him at the same time. On the one hand, every curve was highlighted. On the other, it had been highlighted for somebody else. Grinding his teeth, he scanned the map. 

Laura glanced at the map over his shoulder. "Do you know where we are?"

"Well," he squinted at the horizon past the plane, "as best as I can determine, due East will take us to the border." 

"Is that the way to Kadir?" Laura asked.

The Jewel, who had been rearranging his turban, opened his umbrella and gestured in the opposite direction. "No, Kadir is in the West. Over this mountain."

Remington began to fold up the map and tucked it and the flare gun he had taken from the cockpit, into his pants. "Well, best of luck to you, mate. Laura, let's make haste, shall we?" Placing an arm on her shoulder, he tried to lead her in the direction of the plane.

She stepped back. "We have to take him to Kadir," she said firmly. 

Remington stared at her for a moment. He couldn't believe his ears. "What are you talking about? We got him out, just like you said. He'll be fine, " he said, waving and smiling at the man with the umbrella, "Now, let's get a move on." 

He tugged at her arm once more, and again she disentangled herself from his grasp. 

The Jewel came and stood beside her. "We swore an oath. Just Laura and I. We go to Kadir," he affirmed, exchanging a nod with Laura. 

Remington gaped at her. **Just** Laura and _him_. He had traveled half way around the world to save her from a military dictator and instead of thanks, instead of returning home, she wanted to go gallivanting off with another random guy. 

And if anything, her taste in men was sadly declining. Omar's robes were at least of the finest linens. White belts to rags in a few short years

He had risked his life for her, as he had done many times before, and the least she could do was acknowledge him. Not making pacts with strangers and continually running away from him. He couldn't stand it anymore. 

He exploded: "What is it with you? Everything's **always** gotta be your way, hmm, Laura? It's just like the bloody boat!"

"What d'ya mean, **my** way? It wasn't **my** idea to play hooky and shirk all responsibilities"

"There were no responsibilities to shirk!"

"Precisely because you can't pull your weight on any of our cases!"

The Jewel watched them argue in rapt fascination. "Good, good, I enjoy," he murmured.

"Do you know what I have to put up with?" Remington said angrily to the Jewel. "Whatever I do, it's never enough. If I participate in case work, I ruin the cases. If I don't participate in case work, I have no responsibility. If I try to get close to her, she pushes me as far away as possible and if, god forbid, I ignore her, she'll do anything in a jealous rage to get my attention back! And furthermore"

"No, no, wait, " the Jewel put up his hand. "Now. I'm sorry. It's time for Just Laura."

"And what about you? Mister No Name, No Past, No Future? Everything is a great big party to you. All you can think about is your expense account, your fine dinners and your tailored suits, your dumb blonde admirers. You always come up with ways not to take anything seriously. Like our relationship. Like me!" 

Remington scoffed and raised his eyes heavenward. He tried one last time to get a hold on the conversation. "Laura, you're being so naive about this whole situation. I cannot believe you would be so stupid as to follow Omar and his hairbrained scheme"

"This is **exactly** what I'm talking about!" she yelled at the Jewel. "I just wish sometimes you would think about my feelings"

"Oh, oh, and I suppose all you were thinking about was me when you took off with Omar, hmmm? Did I tell you he blew up our offices?"

"*My* offices?" Laura asked shocked.

"Oh, so now it's **your** offices?"

The Jewel stepped in between them again. "Is good. Good debate. Is equal, no winners. Come, Just Laura," he said, tugging at her non-existent sleeve. "We go."

"No, no, no, wait." She stopped the Jewel and stood in front of Remington. "Why did he blow up our office?"

Remington smiled inwardly at his small victory. He sighed and glanced at her and the Jewel. "Just tell me one thing: why are you risking your life for this guy?" 

He hoped he hadn't sounded as jealous as he felt. All he knew was that Laura seemed intent on this man and his safe journey to Kadir. And a sinking feeling in his chest told him that that was something she'd never do for him. 

"I made a commitment," she replied. "I can't break it."

"Word as bond, and all that, eh?" She nodded. "Okay, okay, fine. But I'm going to tell you the truth. I didn't come out here for you anyway. I'm on to something big. A jewel. The Jewel of the Nile."

The Jewel perked up. Coming forward, he said overbrightly. "Come with us! I am El d'Jahara!"

Laura had attempted to shush him, and was backing him away from Remington, who merely looked at her with an odd expression on his face. She nervously stammered, "That means Joe."

"Well, thank you, er, Joe, but no thanks." Then he added nastily to Laura, "I wouldn't want you to break your commitment."

"Mr. Steele" she began, but he turned away and began walking back toward the plane. 

With a dejected sigh, Laura threw up her hands and followed "Joe" in the opposite direction.

Laura's legs trembled underneath her and it wasn't from the heat. She felt awful for the harsh words she had said and reeled at the accuracy of his. Well, they weren't accurate but they might as well be, she grimaced. She fought an urge to cry out to him again, call him back. He had meant well. He had come to find her. 

And now she finally knew why the office phones didn't work. Omar would pay for that, she vowed silently. 

And yet, typical of him, he just left. Probably without any regard to the property damage or the insurance or the lease They'd be pretty damn lucky if they had an office to return to. Or even the remnants of one. 

And even now, all he apparently cared about was the damn Jewel. He walked away- didn't care what the hell happened to her- Joe could have been a killer and he wouldn't care- he's going to find another jewel to heist.

Well, wouldn't he be surprised when he found out exactly what kind of "Jewel" it was. Served him right.

As she plodded onward, she waffled between misery and rage as Joe hummed to himself, as sure of his journey as she was unsure of hers.

Remington stood befuddled facing the plane. He couldn't leave her but he refused to follow at her heels like a subservient puppy. He pulled the flare gun from his belt and levelled it at the jet. 

He pulled the trigger and the plane exploded, creating a roaring fire. 

He smiled as he watched the flames climb higher, envisioning Omar upon a funeral pyre. He would regret the day he heard of Remington Steele Investigations

"That was for the agency," he whispered to the dunes. " I still owe you for Laura."

TBC.. 


	8. Suspicions of Loyalty

Steele of the Nile Part 8: "Suspicions of Loyalty"

Author: Nefret24

Quick author's note: Very very very sorry for the delay. Hope it's worth it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"AAAAUGH!" Omar screamed as his men continued to unearth their jeeps and the tank as well as brush themselves off. He cursed at his men for their stupidity in allowing the foreigner to escape. During his tirade, an explosion was heard in the distance. 

"Rashid!" Omar called his right hand man to his side. Rashid informed him that smoke could be seen rising from the dunes, only a few miles away. 

With an evil grin, Omar ordered his men to hurry and even began to help exhume his car himself. You will not escape me that easily, Jewel. And Laura Holt shall pay

Laura trudged through the sand and rock of the terrain. Joe was beside her, for the most part; in the last half hour, as she had finally responded to the heat of midday and the pebbles in her shoes (all Omar's doing, those damn slippers!), she had had to work hard to keep up with his pace. Joe himself was having a great time, humming under his breath and occasionally twirling his umbrella which he had opened to shade him from the powerful sun. Laura could feel the sweat build up on her crinkling forehead and squinted ahead, trying to get a sense of where she was going. But she was out of sorts.

"Damn him!" she thought disgustedly. Couldn't he just come along and help out somebody for once? No monetary strings attached? Sure, he helped out clients, but they paid for services. Services he needed to provide if he wanted more designer suits and fancy wines.and now her agency was in shambles and god knows what happened to Mildred

Laura got more and more frustrated as she plodded onward, and finally Joe was provoked to ask, "Just Laura, what is wrong?"

"N-Nothing. Why should anything be wrong?"

"You are not happy. It is your friend? You are not very friendly just now"

"That's just the way we are," she waved it off, laughing nervously.

Joe shot her a sideways glance that revealed his skepticism. They continued on but soon he continued, "Why did you not tell him about me?"

"About your title?" she squinted at him. With a sigh, she pushed some stray hairs out of her face. "I know him too well. He'd go around the world for a priceless jewel but he wouldn't go across town for a noble cause."

"Ah!" Joe said, understanding lighting up his face. Stooping, he picked up one of the omnipresent pebbles on the ground. "Like this rock," he said, holding it up for her to see and then placing it in the palm of her hand. "It does not change."

"Right," she said weakly smiling back. 

Joe stopped her and closed her fingers around the tiny pebble. "Sometimes, people may surprise you. They are not always what they appear to be." Releasing his hold on her hand, Laura felt a strange tingling sensation. Opening her fingers, she was amazed to see that the pebble had disappeared and in its place sat a small desert moth, curiously colored like a butterfly. Within seconds, it fluttered off. 

Laura looked at Joe with awe. What a strange little man. How can he do such incredible things? she wondered and continued to follow behind his footsteps.

Remington was tailing the two of them, at a discrete distance. He had stayed for a few minutes contemplating the remnants of the plane, had delighted in its bonfire, and then had set himself towards devising a plan of action. True, it appeared as if Laura was all but lost to him. He could follow and try to win her back, if he wanted to lose all his pride. Or he could head in the opposite direction and go home, go to LA, go to London, Monte Carlo, anywhere but the middle of the Sahara. Or he could search for this mysterious large jewel the Sufis raved about. The not forgotten lust of wealth resurged and he smiled to himself. He could sell it and live quite comfortably on the Riviera for years. 

If it weren't for that twinge on his heartstrings. Damn that woman, as if breaking his heart wasn't enough, she had to go and give him a conscience!

So he plodded after them, with the vague hope of finding the jewel near Kadir. He had tied his jacket to his head, forming a makeshift turban, so to speak, to help shield him from the sun. He watched as Laura and Joe stopped for a moment, him stooping to pick up something by her feet. 

How does she do it? he mused, shooting Joe an envious glare. Joe smiled at him enigmatically while Laura seemed intent upon her hand. Dammit, he knows I'm following them, Remington cursed underneath his breath. At least Laura was still unwitting. Still, a small consolation- to be seen by anyone, even a ragtag weirdo like Joe, as the plaything wrapped around Laura's little finger. 

He stopped too, glancing upwards at the sun to see if it was yet declining in the sky and began to mop his sweaty brow with his handkerchief. Swiping the back of his neck, he surveyed his surroundings. More and more desolate. What he wouldn't give to be in a casino, or a ballroom or some interior with running water. There was a valley ahead; he could already see the cliffs begin to rise and the terrain had been getting more rocky. With a passing glance, he looked at the ground they had covered and just as he was about to head on, something caught his eye. 

Vehicles propelling themselves forward, shooting up clouds of dust. One of them was quite large- a tank? Omar, to be sure. 

Great. Just great. 

And so, he began to run. 

Laura was about to ask Joe how much farther it was to Kadir when a fast moving blur grabbed her arm and began tugging her forward. 

"What the-" she began and belatedly recognized Remington. 

"It's your friend Omar!" he screamed, his run having slowed to a jog as he tugged at her arm. His other hand gestured behind him. 

Laura's hair whipped around her head as she glanced back to see his entourage closing in, less than a mile away. 

"Right!" She shrugged off Remington and turned to Joe who was shuffling up to them. "Come on, we have to hurry!"

Joe caught up with them and began to run as well right into the valley. Waving his umbrella over his head, he smiled sideways at Laura. "Are we jogging?"

Grinding her back teeth, she replied, "Yes. We **are** jogging."

"Does your friend the **guide** know any hiding spots nearby?" Remington asked hysterically.

"There are crevices in the mountains," Laura said, pointing up at the cliffs to their right. 

"Yes, we can climb. This way, this way," said Joe as he began to climb upwards.

As Laura began to follow him, Remington stopped her. "We have to put some distance between us and Omar first."

"This way!" beckoned Joe.

"Listen to him," Laura said, glancing meaningfully at Remington. "He knows what he's talking about." Pulling her arm free, she started to make her way up the rock face behind Joe.

With a passionate groan, Remington screamed," Always have to have it your way!"

Joe stopped and looked quizzically at Remington. "America. Democracy. We vote." He raised his hand and so did Laura. 

Smiling despite himself, Remington sighed and followed them. "God save the Queen."

They climbed a considerable height until they finally reached a narrow ledge that afforded barely enough space to stand easily on and began to slowly inch sideways. 

Omar and his men had pulled their vehicles to a stop at the base of the cliff. A warning rapport of rifle fire rained pieces of rock on their heads. 

The trio had had to stop to cover themselves from the brunt of the debris. Joe inched farther to the right and Laura began to follow him, but not before hearing Remington's bitter comment directed at her, "Can't live without you, eh?"

"Laura Holt!" Omar cried out, his voice amplified by a megaphone and the structure of the valley itself. 

Laura made a face, and gripped the cliff face behind her, feeling the rocks underneath her slippers give way. Remington's hand flew to the small of her back and gave her a slight shove in the right direction, allowing her to regain her balance. But not before she saw the debris fall and fall and fall to the valley floor

"Laura Holt, I mean you no harm. A slight misunderstanding," Omar smiled brilliantly up at them, his arms raised in a shrug. Meanwhile, his lackeys were beginning to move up the cliff face ever so slowly. 

Joe had reached a small alcove and helped to pull Laura and Remington aside. He stifled a grin as Omar began to shout curses on uppity women in Arabic. 

"He's getting pretty mad," Laura said with a surreptitious glance over the edge. "Maybe I should go down there"

She was interrupted as another rapport of rifle fire pummeled the rock above their heads.

"He's gonna kill us!" she exclaimed incredulously to her companions.

"That's the idea, yes," replied Remington blithely. 

"I'm fairly certain it is not my destiny to die on this mountain," said Joe matter-of-factly, clutching his turban from the hailing stones.

"What about us?" asked Laura.

"That's a different ball game," he replied.

Remington, meanwhile, had been watching Omar pace and scream down below. Slightly turning to Laura, he asked quietly, "What did you do for him that you never did for me?"

She winced at the bitterness apparent in his voice. But just as she was about to reply, Omar lifted an Uzi onto his shoulders and aimed it at the cliff face, directly at them. 

"Consider this your ultimatum, Miss Holt!" he screamed and then, he fired. 

TBC


	9. Confrontations of Many Kinds

Steele On the Nile Part 9/?

"Confrontations Of Many Kinds"

Author: Nefret24

Disclaimers and notes, see parts 1 - 8.

A/N: Man, died from the suspense. Had to be resurrected like Buffy. Several times.

Nah. I'm just lazy and have a short attention span and really angry at PAX for no longer running reruns and six other stories at least going on. Wah wah wah. Mea culpa- I'm sorry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

BOOM.

The entire cliff face seemed to be rocked to its very foundation. Laura choked on dusty air, overly aware of the closeness of Mr. Steele and his arm, protectively gripping her shoulders, turning her away from the entranceway of their little alcove. Rocks rained down with loud, thunderous crashes and she flinched at every one of them, each time irrationally assuming it was the one to knock them into oblivion.

The air was thick, she couldn't see, she couldn't breathe. Were they okay?

Coughing violently, she could feel Mr. Steele's iron grip slacken. She cracked open one eye and saw Joe slowly unwinding the turban from his face. He looked unhurt, Laura assessed thankfully. 

Chancing to open both eyes, she looked up at Mr. Steele. He seemed shaken and was not a little bit dirty but essentially okay.

"You alright?" she managed in a hoarse voice.

"You alright?" he asked her back, dusting off her shoulders. 

She nodded, trying to swallow and was relieved to see him do the same. "We're okay," she tried her shaky voice again, smiling at Joe.

"We are alive!" Joe said triumphantly, before coughing at the dust he had raised in moving closer to Laura and Mr. Steele.

"We're alive!" Steele let out an ebullient whoop of defiance. Pushing Laura and Joe away from the edge, he cautiously looked out and down to where Omar's men had stood. 

"I'd never thought I'd love a view like this but it is not without its subtle charms," he said, retracting his arm so Laura and Joe could see.

Omar's tank had caved in, having been struck with a considerably large boulder. A few jeeps were overturned and the men appeared scattered half hazardly over the ravine floor- dazed and wounded. 

Omar himself was trapped inside his overturned jeep, the door jammed by a massive piece of fallen rock debris. As he struggled to extract himself, cursing all the while, he could hear their exultant laughter echoing off the cliff face.

"This is not over, Miss Holt," he yelled back angrily, swatting at Rashid to help him out of the car.

But she never heard him- as she, Steele and Joe had already left their alcove in favor of making tracks fast. Joe had opted to continue to climb the cliff face and since Laura and Steele had no better ideas, they followed behind him, mildly puffing with the exertion in the heat of the desert.

Joe was humming tunelessly and cheerfully climbed one handed, sparing his left for holding his ridiculous umbrella which bobbed up and down in front of them.

Laura paused at a relatively flat area to catch her breath, looking enviously up at Joe's progress. Remington stopped to see if she was alright, needing the respite himself. 

"I don't know how he does it," she said, shaking her head and flapping her arms to send a wind towards her glistening throat.

Steele averted his eyes to Joe's back, swallowing hard and desperately not wanting to look at Laura's long, exposed throat. "He seems like a pretty good chap, this Joe or whatever his name is. Maybe we should cut him in on the jewel when we find it," he said, offering her a hand up as he began to climb again.

"The jewel" Laura replied hollowly, curling her lip. Here they were, just recently almost pummeled to death by large falling rocks and a man with an Uzi and still all he could think about was the damn jewel. She said nothing in reply and simply brushed past his extended hand, finding another foothold for herself.

Steele let him hand fall and sighed. Back in LA after a nasty skirmish, Laura could at least maintain civility. Well, to an extent. Now everything seemed hopeless without reason. He was alive, he had been set free of his obligation to her and Joe, there was a priceless jewel to be found and he was in the right place at the right time to do it. And yet here he was- pining like an idiot, climbing a rockface getting horribly dirty by the minute, standing by the woman he loved who scorned him in return. 

Lovely. To these depths have we fallen, old boy, he thought grimly and made the mistake of looking down at the ravine. At least we haven't fallen that far, he amended, gulping. They had almost reached the top of the cliff face.

Laura had preceded him- she gave out a little yelp and he feared that she was going to fall. "Laura!" he cried out, unable to move hands or feet without losing his balance.

"I hate to tell you this, but I think things just got worse," she yelled back. 

"What is it?" he cried in alarm.

"I think you mean who is it," she replied and suddenly he saw them. Dozens of them, all over the cliffs. 

"I was hoping to avoid them," Joe said, smiling widely up at one of them poised with a spear aimed at his chest. "The Ba'wani."

"Well, let's hope they don't like white meat," Steele quipped, as they were helped up the rest of the way and led back towards the Ba'wani village.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"We're just local missionary chaps, you know," Steele said to the nearest tribesman in their escort. He had said this several times, to several different tribesmen and received the same reaction: none at all. A blank stare and a "move forward" gesture was the only response. 

"I don't think they know English," Laura nudged him with her elbow. It was obvious that they didn't understand- and why should telling them that they were missionaries stop them from butchering them once they reached the village? They might make death more painful if that. 

"Alright, Laura, since you're so bloody brilliant, what do you think we should say before we get boiled alive? Serve me with carrots and a Merlot?'" he retorted unkindly.

"You have no proof that they cannibalize people. For all we know they could be perfectly harmless," she explained unconvincingly. 

"Harmless, is what they least resemble," Steele replied austerely, eyeing a nearby villager, sporting a large ivory tooth in his nose and carrying a spear with the air of someone practiced at killing things. 

"Joe doesn't seem that worried- maybe it'll all work out. Just I don't know smile at them," she said, stretching her lips into a forced grin and nodding at the man closest to her. "See? Harmless," she said through clenched teeth.

"Right," he replied, his eyes narrowing at the grin the man had given her in return. Smile and nod, smile and nod His eyes scanned ahead of them, looking for Joe. _He_ would know what was going on, what the penalty was for trespassing on sacred ground, how to avoid becoming an entrée 

Ah. There Joe was, at the head of their little group, swinging his umbrella back and forth as if he hadn't a care in the world. Great.

They were nearing the village. Steele could see the outlines of the huts mark the horizon. He felt an arm curl around his and looked down to see Laura, grimly smiling at the warrior closest to her. Miss Holt isn't impervious to everything, he thought, slightly amused. 

He patted her hand with his. "Chin up. Maybe I can convince them you're all skin and bones."

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow with a bemused smile on her lips. "Well, you certainly have an unhealthy look about you too. Probably filled with diseases," she replied, _sotto voce._

"That's what I love about you, Laura- always willing to help a friend in need."

Her brow crinkled and she stared ahead again, removing her arm. Wasn't that what she was doing? Helping out Joe, a friend, in need? And yet, Mr. Steele had made it perfectly clear that he resented it, that he had come along in pursuit of riches and not _her_

Sometimes she wondered if she made too much out of his cavalier comments. And sometimes she wondered if she never understood them the way she was supposed to. He always said it casually, usually sarcastically even: what he loved about her. He never said the word in any other context. 

Well, no, he had suggested they be "lovers" several times, but _the_ three words. In sequence, together- never. And to be fair, neither had she. There were times when she thought them, usually followed by the times she second-guessed herself and willed her mind to un-think them. 

Had he thought them? She wished she could trust him implicitly, the way she could in her dreams. She wished he hadn't heard about Joe, and she wished she hadn't lied to him about it. And with a glance at that ever-present companion on her left who hadn't stopped smiling at her since they started walking, she wished that she would live to see tomorrow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I am not a traitor!" Mildred wailed again as she ineffectually pounded the sand with her fist. 

Abdullah, who had been listening to the woman cry and shout and snivel for over an hour, stood over her and grimaced. "You are too ignorant to steal our Jewel. Your friend will taste our wrath," he said darkly.

"Look, pal, I don't know what kind of bad movies you've been watching"

"Silence, woman! If you wish to live to see tomorrow, you must prove yourself. And your loyalty to us. Not to this Steele?" he finished, his lips curling.

"What do I hafta do? This doesn't involve becoming blood brothers or anything right?"

Abdullah said nothing but mounted his camel and gestured for her to do the same. 

Brushing herself off, Mildred warily mounted and half-into the saddle, the camel began to take off after Abdullah and the rest of the Sufis. "I'm just the secretary!" she moaned. 

Where was Mr. Steele and Miss Holt? Were they ok? Did they know that she was in the clutches of these sadistic men? Why had she volunteered to go along? She wasn't an investigator, she answered phones! She liked answering phones. Getting shot at, having her life threatened, not so much.

"I don't get paid enough for this!" she shouted angrily, as she bobbled up and down on her mount, under the watchful eyes of the Sufis. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Looks like we're here," Laura whispered as they entered what seemed to be the main square of the village.

"Home sweet home, I'm sure," Steele replied in kind. 

Joe had managed to hang back far enough to fall into step with them. Steele nudged his arm. "So, Joe, what's the deal? What's going on?"

"The Ba'wani would like to introduce you to their village. They wish to bestow their hospitality upon us." Upon seeing Steele and Laura's unconvinced countenances, he added, "We should accept."

"By all means. Wouldn't want to disrespect the large spear bearers," Steele agreed, nodding and smiling at a villager thus attired. 

"Thank you," Laura pronounced slowly and loudly at the surrounding villagers.

"They're not deaf, Laura," Steele murmured underneath his breath and received a glare in reply.

"They will show you to your tent," Joe made motions to indicate a rather immodestly dressed woman who smiled and bowed at the couple. "You can rest, bathe and prepare for the feast- the men will return with their kills shortly and we have been promised the largest wild fowl!" 

Laura and Steele exchanged relieved glances as Joe continued to confer with the villagers.

"Well, then, I guess it's time for my afternoon nap," Steele said, rubbing his hands heartily and chuckling. "Show us the way, good madam, and we will be out of your hair."

"Oh no, no, not yet," Joe said, waving his arms. "First the chief's son would like to greet you himself." 

"Oh of course, of course, wouldn't want to disappoint **him**," Steele agreed and followed Joe.

Laura snagged his arm. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Oh Laura, where's the harm? They're pleasant, poultry-eaters in the desert. Probably just wants to shake our hands and wish us luck. Never can go wrong with the leader of the drove, eh?"

"Leader of the what?"

"You know, leader of the gang. Like that quaint American ditty."

"Leader of the _pack_."

"Right. Didn't I say that?"

"I think you had better stick with movies. You're better at them. I can't help shake the feeling that we're going to be evaluated."

"We've made it so far without any problems."

"Yeah- by the skin of our teeth."

"Oh come on, Laura, don't look so downcast. Not all leaders of men are swine like Omar." As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Laura had gone a trifle pale, and had stifled her expostulations between firmly clamped down lips.

They followed Joe in silence until they reached yet another small group of villagers. Joe bowed low and began to speak with one of them, a very short individual whose head barely passed Steele's mid-torso.

"Is that him?" Laura nudged Steele, indicating the short man with a nod.

"One would suppose so. Though you'd think the son of the chief wouldn't appear so malnourished, eh?"

Laura crinkled her brow and said nothing, but watched every movement of the two men with intense concentration. Finally, the conference seemed over and the small man looked at the couple and smiled broadly. Raising his hand, he spoke to them in his language and they looked to Joe for translation.

"The chief's son Hatae bids you welcome. He hopes you will stay and enjoy the festivities later."

"We would be delighted, thank you," Laura said with a small smile and nodding at Joe.

It was then that the small individual, Hatae?, approached the two and began to stare curiously at Laura's face. She mistook it for an interest in the gold headdress that Omar had given her and so she unwrapped what hair remained pinioned atop her head and extended the headdress to him. He smiled, looked at Steele, smiled again, and returned to his conversation with Joe.

The woman appeared again and it seemed as if the scrutiny would end and that they would finally be shown to their tent.

"Hatae says you may be his special guests at the feast and eat at his table. He also wishes to congratulate you on your marriage and wishes you have many male offspring," Joe translated as the man began to speak at them again.

Steele went white as Laura began to sputter. At first, Steele mistook it for pent-up rage but soon it became evident that she was struggling not to guffaw aloud. She lost the battle and finally amidst her giggles managed, "Thank you again, but we're **not** married."

They began to follow the woman before hands took hold of them and dragged them back to face the short man. 

"What? What is it? What did I say?" Laura asked frantically, struggling.

"Maybe some delightful Puritan missionaries turned up here last and looked down on extramarital relations," Steele muttered, his eyes darting from one tribe member to another, hopelessly looking for a weak spot in the throng.

"We do not have extramarital relations!" Laura hissed. "We're business partners!" she shrieked. "Nothing more!"

Joe seemed to be in deep converse with the man again. He turned to the couple with a grim countenance. "Hatae says if you are not married, he would like to court you," Joe said to Laura.

"Court me?"

"Woo you," Steele said through clenched teeth.

"Woo me? Tell him I'm flattered," she said with a wary look at the short man, "but that I don't like long distance relationships."

"What does this mean, long-distance relationship?" Joe said, his eyes squinting with confusion. "I do not think the Ba'wani have a word for this."

"Look, she's with me," Steele said, breaking an arm free from a villager's grasp and placing it protectively around Laura's shoulder. "Okay? Settled? Let's go find this tent," he said trying to make his way past the people.

They herded the two back into the inner circle and held them fast again. This time, the little man's and Joe's voices were raised as they held conversation while all Laura and Steele could do was hopelessly look on.

Laura for her part was dreading a lifetime bound to a midget for a husband and was experiencing horrible visions of herself ten years down the road with ten children in a tent in the middle of the Sahara. Whatever qualms she had had about Steele claiming ownership of her were gone; of the two, she'd pick Steele in a heartbeat. 

Steele was angered beyond all belief. Between Laura practically screaming that all they were to each other consisted of business- not even friendship but just business, she had said!- and that little brat Hatae trying to claim her for his own- well, that was too much for one man to take. She might be many things, and consider him, Steele, to be many things, but no one deserved to get thrust in the midst of the desert against their will for the rest of their life. All he really wanted to do was punch someone in the face, starting with the little, high and mighty Hatae. 

Joe offered them an explanation after a pause in the discourse. "Because there are two suitors, a test of valor must be attempted to determine the worthiest one."

"What if I just choose Mr. Steele?" Laura cried out, digging her nails into Steele's forearm, a worried look on her face.

"Hand to hand combat is the usual method of settlement," Joe explained to Steele. 

Eyeing the diminutive Hatae, he allowed a smirk to cross his face. "Can't be too hard. Just be like boxing at old Glasbie. Never one to shirk a challenge," he nodded, rolling up his sleeves. He shot a confident glance down at Laura and pried her fingers off him. "Don't worry, love, he'll never know what hit him."

Then, from amidst the throng, appeared the tallest and proportionally broadest man Steele had ever seen. Muscles upon muscles rippled across his chest. Towering over Steele, he looked down and grinned malevolently.

"This is Hatae," Joe said, gesturing at the large man.

"Then who?" Laura said, open-mouthed.

"His chief consul, Ma-rahi."

"What was that about he'll never know what hit him?" Laura muttered at Steele, who simply swallowed loudly. "I don't think he's in the same weight class."

"I don't think he's from the same planet. What can you eat to get that gigantic?"

"Wild fowl, apparently," Laura said with a smirk. 

"You just had to say we weren't married!"

"I'm supposed to _lie_ to the _son_ of the _chief_?"

"**Yes**," he hissed, watching as a ring slowly began to form. 

"Whatever happened to never shirking a challenge?"

"This isn't a challenge. This is a sure-fire way to die. I think I would have preferred being basted to death."

"I won't allow this!" Laura screamed at the larger man. "I will not be fought over like meat between Neanderthals! Do you understand! This stops now!" As she screamed she began to wrap herself around Steele protectively, never taking her eyes off Hatae. 

Tribesmen dragged her to the outside of the circle, kicking and screaming. 

"Do you see what you'll have to put up with? Better let me handle it, old man, I'm at least used to it," Steele said with a nervous chuckle as Hatae began to crack his large knuckles. 

Joe climbed onto a nearby fruit basket and raised his umbrella high in the air. Waving it over his head, he called for silence. Then he broke into English:

"The fight will begin now."

TBC. 


End file.
